


Drunks, Lovers, Sinners And Saints

by Agape (kitsuneart), Kiarana



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Otabek and JJ started something, Otabek is 16 and so are JJ and Leo, Otabek is swearing a lot in his thoughts, Pining, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Teen Angst, how Leo JJ and Otabek became supafriends, mention of masturbation, we will add more tags and warning later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsuneart/pseuds/Agape, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiarana/pseuds/Kiarana
Summary: Slender fingers trace the contours of his muscles, the defined slabs of his abdomen, burning Otabek’s skin every time they reach a sensitive spot. Licking his own lips, Jean wonders in his alcohol-fogged mind what to do next. He smiles in the darkness, already knowing the answer.orWhat happened when JJ and Otabek trained in Detroit with Leo, how the friendship between the three of them developed, how something more sparkled between JJ and Otabek and what led to that cold "Thank you, but I'll pass." in Barcelona.





	1. It's a long time coming when your giving it everything

**Author's Note:**

> A big THANK YOU to our betas [urielsgate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/urielsgate), [sciencemakedrugtho](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencemakedrugtho/pseuds/sciencemakedrugtho), [realgeorgipopovich](http://realgeorgipopovich.tumblr.com/), [whatthef0x](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheF0x/pseuds/WhatTheF0x) and [starkysnarks](http://starkysnarks.tumblr.com/) for their invaluable help! 
> 
> Find us on tumblr: [ainitsuite-agape](https://ainitsuite-agape.tumblr.com/tagged/agape) and [yakoucchu](http://yakoucchu.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: **If you hover over any phrases that are not in English, the translation will be the hover text.**
> 
> If you're reading from mobile, you can find the translations in the end notes.

Otabek stiffens against the mattress, tensing in nervous anticipation, feeling every touch of clumsy but strong hands moving down his body, traveling over his firm chest, his stomach, slowly reaching the line of his sweatpants and pausing there, trembling a bit, uncertain, before gripping firmly on his T-shirt and pulling it up over his head.  
Slender fingers trace the contours of his muscles, the defined slabs of his abdomen, burning Otabek’s skin every time they reach a sensitive spot. Licking his own lips, Jean wonders in his alcohol-fogged mind what to do next. He smiles in the darkness, already knowing the answer. Fingers replaced by soft lips, a trail of wet kisses and light bites drifting lower and lower, reaching the path of dark hair peeking out of Otabek’s boxers. Resting between his legs, Jean’s hands move again, slipping under the waistband of Otabek’s pants, pulling them down on his thighs, making Otabek shiver, feeling Jean's hot breath around the tip of his exposed length.

_Shit, is he really going to do it?_

.  
.  
.

**CHAPTER 1 - It's a long time coming when your giving it everything**

Detroit, Michigan, USA / March, 9th 2013

The sky is all shades of dull grey. The sun, hiding under a thick blanket of clouds, seems to whisper through the cold breeze _no chance you’ll see me anytime soon._

Otabek sighs and hides his face in his scarf, trying to quicken his steps while dragging a bulky suitcase behind him. Perhaps he should have worn something warmer than a leather jacket, but he spent the previous winter in El Segundo, California, so he doesn’t have any warmer coat with him. He should buy a proper one in the next few days, as it seems winter is not willing to give up his kingdom to spring yet, here in Detroit. For now Otabek is just happy to have finally reached his new home and all he dreams about is taking a long hot shower. He cherishes the thought. It’s funny how things change, how much he’s changed in so little time.

One year ago he was turning his life upside down, moving from Russia to California, so far away from home like he had never been before. He had tried to sound confident, resolute and fearless in front of his family when he had said “I’m going alone”. Father had glanced at him in shock but Otabek had held his gaze, clutching his fists, his heart pounding in his ears. It was unfortunate that his mother had broken her leg the day before the scheduled departure. She was supposed to go with him and she was blaming herself. “I’m going alone, I can take care of myself.” he had repeated. And Father had agreed.  
It had been hard though; no point in denying that. He was utterly scared at the time, fearing he’d be sent back to Almaty when the receptionist had seen him at the desk without his parents, only a big suitcase and a backpack clutched in his hands like his life depended on it. Inside, his most precious possession: his ice skates.  
It had been so emotionally and physically demanding, but he had concealed it from everyone. Otabek had no time to be weak, mournful or childish. He had chosen this path for himself and he knew that all this pain, sweat and tears were very much needed in order to improve his skills. He had been lucky to be accepted at the Toyota Sports Center in El Segundo, under the guide of Frank Carroll and he had learned so much. He would have been grateful to stay there permanently, but when he received the acceptance letter from the Detroit Skating Club he was over the moon. Celestino Cialdini had agreed to be his coach for the upcoming season: he couldn’t miss the opportunity. 

And now here he is, in front of the dormitory’s main entrance, balancing his backpack on his shoulders and reaching for the door when a nicely tanned guy opens it from inside and hold sit to let him pass. He’s dressed in white and black and seems ready for jogging. “Welcome to the Nest!” the stranger smiles warmly while Otabek drags his suitcase inside and thanks him. “YUURI! COME ON HURRY UP!” the man shouts in the direction of the stairs while waving his hand in Otabek’s direction and going out in the street. "Phichitto-kun wait for me!" whines another voice and a black haired guy rushes towards the door without paying any attention to the newcomer. Otabek’s eyes follow them until they’re out of sight and then he shrugs and turns towards the reception. 

\--- 

Before leaving for his first year of training abroad, Otabek spent an entire weekend alone with his grandpa. He visited the old man when he was still in his Yurt, a portable round tent placed in the middle of the Big Almaty Lake Area, his summer residence.  
They enjoyed each other’s presence for the few short days. Not a single word about Otabek's last year in Russia or about his skating career in general passed between them. His grandpa knew very well that all his grandson needed was the blurred comfort of warm memories of the past in order to put off focus the uncertain future waiting for him just around the corner. So, while eating freshly-caught grilled fish and baked traditional delicacies that Otabek's mother had prepared, the two of them spent that weekend together looking for the perfect spot to put the tripod and get the perfect picture, keeping the shutter open and the aperture between f/2.8 - f/4, waiting patiently for the camera to capture the magic of the land, just as he’d taught Otabek some years ago, when he was not much more than a child.  
Around the last night, while they were drinking a strong hot tea, sitting on the shore and enjoying the wilderness, the old man broke that comforting silence between them.  
The water was still, full moon and scattered stars reflected across its surface from above, turning the lake in an endless rink made of silver. 

“Болар бала боғынан” his grandpa suddenly says, hearing a soft chuckle from his grandson. ‘“Do you know what that means, Otabek?”

“Who a boy will become is evident from an early age.” he dutifully replies, using the same language in which the question came, the Russian his grandpa used only on rare occasions. He always favored Kazakh.

“Who a boy will become is evident from the poop!” blurts out the old man, his stern gaze still focused on the silver reflection of the water. Otabek giggles again. “If I didn't know you, I’d say that you're forgetting our language.” He stops laughing and immediately shakes his head. “бұл мүмкін емес. Сіздің ойыңыз қандай?”

The elder finally turns his gaze on Otabek, carefully examining his expression “If you want me to take a guess, I think you simply don’t agree with me.”

“I..” Otabek swallows thickly. “I just think it doesn’t suits me at all. What I will become? I barely know what I am now. Or rather, I still don't know. How can an old proverb know?”

“You don't get what are you now _altynym_?” Now is his grandpa's turn to snicker at his grandson’s words while looking fondly at him. Otabek slowly shakes his head in a no, again. The old man leaves his teacup on the wet soil, extends his hand and cups some water from the surface of the lake, silver drops dripping from his slender fingers, tanned from the sun. 

“If I am like wood, rooted to the ground of this Country like a wild apple tree, then you are like water. The water digs the road through the stone, and when it's trapped, the water creates a new path.”

Otabek’s look is sceptic, but his grandpa nods proudly in response. “And it's evident that it's not water from a lake, neither a river. It's from the ocean . . .”

.  
.  
.

Otabek jumps from his sleep, looking around in confusion. 

“Grandpa..?”

The room is shrouded in darkness but it’s clearly neither a Yurt nor his home in Almaty. Then he remembers. It’s Detroit. It’s the Nest. It has been two years already since the last time he visited his Grandpa. It’s surreal how his brain twisted up the memories of his latest days in Kazakhstan. Yeah, his beloved Kazakhstan, where he has his roots, his family, his friends… but not a single fucking place to improve his skating.

Otabek sighs deeply and scratches his undercut, considering his actual situation: He has a comfortable bed in a twin room. No luck with a single, but he’s shared before so it’s nothing new, he can cope with this. At least he checked in first so he got to choose which bed he liked best. Overall the room is not that bad. The place has simple and practical furnishing and a private bathroom. Whoever designed it had to love symmetry -- one side of the room mirrors the other. Two single beds, two identical bedside cabinets between them. Two wooden desks facing opposite walls. Twin wardrobes; one on the left and one on the right of the door; two big windows over the beds. Otabek can already picture himself staring at the world outside in the days to come, regretting his life choices every time he fucks up in a competition, changing his mind again when he collects a bright new score, because that's what figure skaters do every time. Yeah, he is in America for training under a top class coach to become a figure skater who's gonna make sure his name gets written in Kazakhstan sports’ history. Yeah, now we're talking. 

“I can't feel homesick right now. I-”

A loud knock against the room's door shakes him from his thoughts.

“... Holy shit.” He overslept. Surely it’s someone from the Nest’s staff checking why he’s still in his room. He quickly jumps out of the bed, furiously looking for his clothes. _Good job Otabek_ , he swears under his breath in Kazakh putting on a black zipped hoodie, covering his ‘FUCKING HOSTILE’ Pantera t-shirt away from prying eyes. _Speaking about making a name for yourself, right?_ It's probably for the best if he conceals his passion for groove metal. Another loud knock. _Shit_ , being late on his first day will give them the wrong impression, and if this isn’t enough, maybe his shoulder-length hair that he keeps in a messy punk-samurai-styled bun over his undercut, his resting bitch face and his always-pissed-off attitude will do the rest. _Yeah, that’ll just sort him into a fucking stereotype._  
Prejudices: The world has plenty against him and he is perfectly fine with proving them wrong every single time, not with his look, not with his words, but with his actions. The world is a battlefield after all, and he’s ready to fight. 

But too bad for his rebellious plans. To his slight disappointment it’s no elderly teacher standing in front of the door and angrily pointing a wooden stick at him. All he gets is the sight of a boy around his age, thick eyebrows, tanned skin and brown hair tied in a fluffy bun . . . Spanish maybe? It’s a wild guess and Otabek knows from personal experience that you can’t judge someone from the first look. Besides, the real question is . . . _the hell does he want?_

“..Uh, you need something?” Otabek asks, damning himself for his just-woken-up voice that sounds uncertain.

“MR ORTIZ, HE FINALLY OPENED THE DOOR!!” screams the boy towards the end of the corridor, making Otabek squint his eyes. “WE DON’T NEED THE SPARE KEYS, HE’S ALIVE AND WELL!” He doesn’t catch the other man’s reply but it has to be something hilarious since the boy giggles and waves his hand at the Nest’s owner who disappears, turning the corner. 

“Sorry for knocking your door at his hour, buddy! But the lady from the reception, Mrs. Ortiz, insisted that all the newbies should take a little tour of the place with her husband. Since it's . . . uhm, almost morning. Sure, it’s early, but like, everything looks better in the morning, you know?”

“Almost morning?” Otabek gives him a blank stare and the guy just laughs at him.

_What the hell was he saying? And now, what's so funny about asking a legit question?_

“Wait- What time is it?” Otabek blurts out in confusion, but before he can look around the room for his phone, the stranger shoves his one under his nose: 6.02 AM sparkles on the screen. Oh . . . that’s why no light was filtering through the window when he woke up, nothing to do with the fact that dawn comes later in winter, it’s just get up fucking early for no fucking reason, on a day when no official plans are scheduled so . . .

“Why . . . ?” he whines to the boy, feeling tired all of a sudden.

“That is the question!” he utters solemnly. “Seriously, I don't know where we're gonna find some light this early, but we should go downstairs and meet everyone, right now, or we're gonna be scolded from Mr Ortiz! You better wake up your roommate too and…”  
“We better go downstairs.” Otabek simply shrugs, leaving the room and closing the door behind him with a little slam. “I'm alone here, for now.” 

“Ah. Is that so? Maybe someone will arrive soon…” he murmurs, while trying to follow Otabek who's already leading the way. “Ah, wait for me!”

“There's no need. We're going to see each other downstairs anyway.”

“ _Fucking hostile . . ._ ” mutters the guy.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing really, let's go!”

\---

Along with Otabek and his merry new acquaintance there are few other young boys waiting in the hallway, yawning both from boredom and sleepiness. Good to see that all of them seem annoyed by the early rise and not in the mood for small talk. With a bit of luck they’ll skip introductions for just a little more until the first day of..

“Hi guys! I’m Leo! I got here few days ago from Colorado Springs! Nice to meet you!”

_Oh for fuck’s sake how can this guy be so cheerful at 6am in the morning?_

So now Otabek has to pretend he’s interested in his potential enemies: i.e., ‘socializing with rinkmates’. He feels like less of an asshole when some of them just wrinkle their nose at his sight: At least he isn’t the only one who has no interest in the others. But what bothers him most is their random assumption. "Are you Chinese? Korean, then? No, maybe Japanese, or Thai?" He’s lost count of how many times people have said that bullshit to him. What's the point, if they don’t really care about his answer?  
Luckily it doesn't last long. Mr. Ortiz, a gentle middle-aged man with a very calm and quiet appearance, shyly interrupts the presentations. He briefly gives them his credentials, explaining that it’s his pleasure to meet them all, that he handles the Nest with his wife from ages and they’ve seen so many talents growing up between these walls and bla, bla bla.

He finally starts the tour of the entire structure, a cozy modern construction that looks quite solid and well-made. It’s not like a bunch of teens could judge the quality or understand Mr. Ortiz babbling about the wood floor in the hallway that comes from quality wood, whatever the country that it cames from was, and the wood's name. Everyone is bored to death already, but Otabek can see the sparkle in Mr Ortiz’s eyes while he’s fondly giving them useless details. You can feel he loves this place and his work. The bedrooms with the baths, like they already know, are on the first floor, while on the ground floor there's the laundry, the cafeteria where healthy meals will be served daily in the canteen, and a self-service area which is open 24/7, where they can find hot and cold beverages and even a few low-calories snacks.

Okay, Otabek has to admit it: He’s definitely pleased with what he has just seen. It even makes him almost forget that he was kicked out of his bed at 6am, _almost._

“Now that we ended the fun part, boys,” says Mr Ortiz after stopping in front of the self-service area. “Here comes the less fun part of this tour: There are few rules to follow for staying here at the Nest. Actually, there's just one that is more than a rule. It is the motto that made me and my wife create this place to take care of future champions for the past 10 years: Sharing is Caring. No one has to be left alone, like ever. If you feel like you need help or your roommate is going through a difficult time, try to give him your best. Please, let us know and we will help you as well.”  
The group stays silent, but before Mr. Ortiz can continue even further, one of them raises his hand. “Yes, young one?”

“So, that's it? We have to observe only one rule, sir?”

Otabek wrinkles his eyebrows. _Let him finish already, for fuck's sake. I'm sleeping on my feet._

“That was the motto,” smiles Mr Ortiz “Rules are another story. My bad for giving you false expectations, young men. Well, first. Try to follow our schedules: About the curfew, the hours that lunch and dinner gets served, or how laundry services and cleaning services work...they're all written on the brochure that you got at the check-in.”

“That seems only fair to me!” peeps the guy who picked Otabek up from his room. Well, his name is Leo. Must have missed it before: Otabek tried to avoid small talk as much as possible earlier, stating his full name and piercing everyone with his sharp gaze. _Ugh, please just end this._

“I'm happy that you agree! Second. Manners, boys. We're gonna respect you, so please respect us and all the staff that are working hard every day, exactly as you.”  
“Respect is very important!” says Leo with probably too much enthusiasm. 

“It really is, boy. Third and, I swear this is the last one.” Yes, Otabek thinks. “Around midnight, our Wi-Fi shuts off. It will start working again at 8:00 AM.”

“SAY WHAAAAT??” A sorrowful moan fills the room and all the boys turns their attention to Leo's horrified expression. He seems to be in physical pain after hearing the news. “...No way!” he mutters.

“I'm deeply sorry, boys,” Mr. Ortiz sighs. “I know that some of you come from faraway countries and that you probably wanted to use that time for talking with your family and relatives, but this decision was discussed and requested from your coaches. They know that sometimes you use and abuse internet as a distraction. With that, you lose precious hours of sleep that could make you tired and less efficient at practice. So please, try to bear it. For being in touch with your family, our phone line covers international phone calls and is free for you to use. We have three phones, and they're located in the self-service area. You can use them anytime you feel like you need to speak with your loved ones.”

“That's fair.” The only one speaking this time is Otabek, and of course he gets few angered looks from the others, but a pleased one from Mr. Ortiz. “Short calls are more than enough.”  
_Since you know, night AND EARLY MORNING hours are made for sleeping._

“I like your point of view! Well, I think that's all, young men. Enjoy your stay here at the Nest, and sorry for for waking you up so early this morning, I promise it will not happen again.” And with that the "quick" tour finally ends.

The boys reluctantly spread out to return to their rooms while murmuring stuff about how freaking unfair it is to shut off the Wi-Fi at night and comments like ‘this is fucking medieval’ or ‘I didn’t sign up for this’. Otabek couldn't care at all about their opinions, but before he can finally get back to his room, someone taps softly on his shoulder.

_Seriously?_ He hoped that his last comment would have been enough to be left alone. He turns on his feet showing off his best death stare and _no shit_ , it’s that boy again, Teo or whatever his name is? 

“By the way, I haven't introduced myself to you yet, have I?”

“I don't think so.” _You started that introducing thing yourself earlier, but it seems that wasn't enough to fulfill your...whatever your point is._

“I'm Leo De la Iglesia, just moved here from Colorado Springs! I hope that we can be cool.” With that he extends his hand towards Otabek, a warm smile full of hope on his face. Intentionally or not, Leo's attitude manages to make Otabek feel bad about himself. Maybe this guy is just kind-hearted by nature and maybe he really wants to be his friend. Well, he’s being so straight to the point so . . .perhaps he could give him a chance? 

He recalls the words that Mr. Ortiz said during the tour: Sharing is Caring, and even if he instinctively objects to how cheesy that sounds, Otabek deeply respects the meaning that the man and his wife gave to it. After all, they are sharing an experience, and most probably even the same dream. The least he can do is care about it, even if it’s just a little. Without being a social butterfly, but also without being a total asshole.

_You should thank the fact that you look a bit like Santiago, Leo._ “I'm Otabek Altin. I was training at El Segundo last year.” he replies and firmly shakes Leo’s tanned and warm hand.

“From the warm glow of California, to the bitter winter of Michigan!” smiles the guy while fishing a few quarters from the pocket of his sweatshirt. He slips them into the vending coffee machine, pressing one time for black coffee, and two times for sugar. “I'm just taking a wild guess saying that you're more than okay with the change of weather,” he teases Otabek after picking up the hot beverage and putting the steaming cup directly into Otabek’s hands, getting an hint of a smile from the Kazakh. 

“Well, this 24/7 coffee machine . . . it's quite motivational.”

“Can't say the same for that internet limitation though…” sighs Leo, punching the machine again for his own drink, watching the cup getting filled with hot cocoa this time while Otabek simply shrugs at the consideration.

“I don't mind it at all. I'm practically president of the SNS haters club.”

“So hostile..” Leo giggles, but the questionable glare he gets makes his smile dies on his lips. “Sorry I can’t help it but . . .” he looks pointedly at Otabek’s chest. The zip of his hoodie is half open and Leo unzips it completely in a single movement, trying his luck.

“I knew I recognized that t-shirt!” He grins triumphantly. “It seems we have a huge Pantera fan over here!” 

Otabek just blinks at his words, startled. “I don't like that word. Fan . . . It came from the term fanatic, right? I just like good music.”

“Me too, I enjoy good music!” replies Leo while picking his cup from the machine and stirring it a little bit. “Music is not just music to me. If you think about it, everything on the earth has music inside. Every noise is an unique sound. It's . . . almost crazy, right? I’m constantly searching for something new to listen to because all I want to find is my own sound. Something that I could interpret on the ice, one day . . .”  
Otabek looks at Leo's serious expression. It seems to be something really important to him and he can definitely relate to his feeling. His own sound, he said . . . that sure has a deeper meaning inside.

“Ah!” Leo blurs out suddenly, “I didn't ask you if you preferred hot cocoa instead of coffee! Want to switch?” he smiles again, offering his cup to Otabek, the somber look gone already from his eyes.  
Otabek glances at the cup which is filled with . . . dirty water. It looks like a teaspoon of lumped cocoa dumped straight in hot water. If he thinks about hot cocoa, he pictures his mother doing it for him- _There's no need to recall such a memory of my real nest in Kazakhstan._ “I'm happy with coffee, thanks.”

Before taking a sip of his drink, he raises the cup to the level of Leo’s, bumping it softly. “To the Nest, a quiet place without distraction!”  
Leo chuckles, while rolling his eyes. "Yay. _Tell me friend, can you ask for anything more?_ " he sings.  
Otabek's eyes brighten a little bit. Whoa, Bruce Springsteen. “You weren't lying when you said you like good music!” 

“Told ya! Hey, for being a quiet place, now it's getting pretty lively, right?” Leo notices, pointing at some middle aged women dressed in black pants and an identical white shirts opening the Cafeteria. One of them turns on the lights around the entire area, making “morning” finally happen.

“If I exclude Mrs Ortiz,” Otabek considers, taking a short sip of coffee, “those are the only women I’ve seen in this place so far.”

Leo simply shrugs with disinterest, but something catches his eye - someone coming closer behind Otabek's shoulders. A certain tall and built figure, dressed in a black turtleneck paired with a dark blue jacket and white suit pants that seem to be too light for the current season. ‘Since this area is quite small, I wonder where the girls have been placed . . . ’

“INDOVE TU UN LE POI MANCO ANNUSARE, O BISCHERO!”

That sudden loud voice makes the two guys jump. Celestino Cialdini is standing in front of them, his sharp gaze burning holes in Otabek. 

OH SHIT.

“If you're more interested in knowing where all the girls are instead of thinking about your new rink,” utters the man with a solemn tone waving a paper folder in front of them, “I have a few transfer applications here, if you want to play Romeo so badly!”

Otabek feels a sudden rush of heat coming to his face. _This isn't happening for real._ “I…”

“Ah, Mr. Cialdini Sir!” smiles Leo, overly enthusiastic as ever, and, when the man just nods at his greeting, Otabek damns the coffee that he is drinking for not burning out his goddamn tongue. Wonderful, his new coach is already thinking that he is a dumb teenage boy who doesn't take his big opportunity seriously.

_Say something, fix this!_ “Sir I- I'm so sorry, I- I was just... It was just curiosity, I swear.”

He hears his voice actually whimpering. No way, he just sounded like a freaking baby to Celestino Cialdini, and now he’s looking at him even more baffled. Otabek starts to panic for real.

_Get a hold of yourself, Beka! All you need to do is make him forget about this moment! Just nod and change the subject. He doesn't even know your name yet! Eventually he will forget your face and the stupid thing you said, right?_

“He's right, Sir! He was just asking without any ill intention. By the way! It’s an honor to meet you here at the Nest! I thought we wouldn’t have the chance to meet you before next week!” The providential intervention of Leo gives Otabek the idea that maybe this friendship will go smoothly. He's a good guy and a potential friend, he knows cool bands and quotes good songs, and even-

“How about a coffee, Sir? You can't believe how good it is! Right Otabek?”

_WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY MY FUCKING NAME!? AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE MY FRIEND, LEO!?!_

“Nah,” Celestino shrugs “I already had an Italian moka espresso, the only thing that I can say is a _vero caffè_. Saves your american _brodaglia_ for the sleepless nights I expect you will have before the competitions . . . if you ever get to that level, of course. The only expectation I have for now is seeing you all on time at the rink in a week. My assistant will get you in shape. I can just imagine how much you kiddos have indulged in sweets and junk food after Worlds, _suinelli_. But fret not, the the hard work will start soon enough!” 

“Copy that. At 3:30 sharp at the rink! See you in a week Mr. Cialdini!” smiles Leo, mimicking a soldierly salute.

Celestino just sighs and starts to walk away, but before he can leave them alone, he shoots another disapproving look to Otabek that makes him desire ardently to be swallowed up by the floor. “Hey, whatever your name was.”

_YES._ “Yes, Sir?”

“Where's the reservation office?”

“Right around the corner. Left, then right.”

Celestino nods and follows Otabek’s instructions while Leo vigorously waves his hand in the coach’s direction, only stopping when he’s out of sight, releasing a loud and deep sigh. 

“Don't make that face now. It could have been worse.”

Otabek just throws his almost empty cup of coffee in the nearest trashcan and gives his mate a death stare. _Sure, you could have just said to him ‘Mister, his name is Otabek Fucking Altin, not Whatever!_ “It's okay,” he says instead. “I have to go to my room now, getting ready for class. See you around, Leo.”

Leo is on the verge of saying something more, but he just nods. Otabek is on the stairs when he hears the guy calling him. When he turns around, he can see that Leo has unzipped his own hoodie, showing him the T-shirt he is wearing. Otabek can't help but smile a bit when he reads the text written in blood letters on his shirt: "The Black Parade".

Mr. Ortiz was right: Early in the morning you can see so many things in a different light. It could have been worse, he might not have meet such a cheerful, good guy with a great passion for music.

“ _Take a look at me, cause I could not care at all!_ ” sings Otabek.

Leo blinks at him, then starts to laugh. “Good one! See you around, Otabek!”

\---

“So there's no single rooms available in the entire dorm. Not even a little one?” Celestino is reiterating the question, hoping for a different answer, but Mr. Ortiz repeats again, “Not even a little one Celestino. I’m so sorry about this but your assistant should have known our policy. Sharing is caring. No single room nonsense!”

“I see. That's definitely understandable, you don’t have to feel sorry. I will make something work. Thanks anyway,” he sighs, giving up on the situation. But before he can leave the office, Mrs Ortiz enters the room. “ _Oh, mia bellissima Carolina!_ Is that you, my sweetie?”

“Celestino!” smiles the woman, embracing him and ignoring the twitching eyebrow look of his husband. “What brings you here, darling? So good to see you!”

“What brings me here? My weakness for beautiful ladies like you!” says Celestino with a wide grin while Mrs Ortiz smiles in return. “A friend of mine begged me to coach her promising son. We're talking about a very pampered little prince who got to stay in a single room in Colorado Springs, and wants to continue the tradition. Since my assistant completely forgot to specify this tiny detail upon his move to the Nest, I came here to check the situation by myself.”

“Oh, dear. I think I get the picture . . . how can I help you? Well, we definitely can't give him a single room . . .”

“Yeah, your kind husband already explained that to me.”

“But, if this boy could be ok with sharing . . .” she says after rushing to her computer and checking the guest list, “. . . we should still have an empty bed in a twin room.”

Celestino widens his eyes. “Please, tell me there's someone who's still alone! It would be perfect! I mean, with this Sharing is Caring thing going on here, I’m sure that having a roommate will definitely help in keeping an eye on this little prince. He was hosted in the house of a childless Christian couple in Colorado Springs . . . can you imagine how spoiled he could have become?”

“Oh, I can only imagine how much expensive it was for this family . . .” Mr.Ortiz murmurs to himself. “Kids nowadays are too spoiled for my taste.”

“Ah, don't say that to me,” Celestino shrugs, “According to his mom, this host family even cooked for him whatever he asked. I just hope that he didn't put on too much weight and that his roommate will not have to wash his as-”

“Found it!” Mrs. Ortiz beams while pointing a pearl-lacquered finger at the screen. “I knew we had a place left. Room 27. Sharing with a sixteen-year-old from Kaz..Kazakhstan? Oh, I think I remember this sweet child. Otabek Altin. He seemed to be a responsible kid, since his family let him come here all alone. He will start as a Junior under your care! What a perfect match, don’t you think Celestino?”

Otabek. That name sounds familiar to Celestino's ears, but he can’t link it to a face . . . too many boys and girls to remember! “ _E brava Carola!_ ” he shouts enthusiastically. “Did you ever speak with his family?”

“I had the pleasure of speaking with his Mama. Such a cheerful and lovely woman! She even said that she will send us few liqueur chocolates truffles from their chocolate factory, which is simply delightful.”

“A boy who's raised from chocolatiers,” Celestino observes. “He must be a considerate guy who loves to take care of others, right?”

“He definitely is,” Mr. Ortiz nods, “he's definitely a responsible guy.”

“Well, _signori_ ,” Celestino says with a smile, “I guess we finally have a deal.”

\---

Otabek closes the door behind him and lets out a delighted sigh. The room is warm and quiet, pale light coming from the big windows in front of him, painting everything in golden colors. A soothing sight that seems too good to be true.

The single bed on the left corner is still untouched. It has been a week already and no one has come to claim it. Otabek thinks it’s unusual but he hasn’t bothered asking for news at the reception. Sometimes ignorance is bliss and the more he can enjoy the luxury of having the whole room by himself the better. Maybe he got lucky. Maybe he will not have a roommate after all. It would be glorious, but he’s not so naive to believe in such a lie, especially when Leo is pestering him every day regarding the matter. He’s sure someone will arrive soon but he’s not giving more details and Otabek is not asking. Ignorance is bliss.

He shrugs moving to his desk while drying some sweat from his face with the towel hung around his neck. The past week had been mostly hard work at the gym and basic stuff on the ice. Overall the level of the group is average. None of them is a natural talent like Yuri Plisetsky, which is good and bad at the same time. He wouldn’t have been against having a proper opponent to face every day, but he knows that he doesn’t need this to keep his motivation high. He had set up a goal for himself long ago and that was inspirational enough. Besides, he’s not better than the others and he’s not even near the level he’s trying to reach. 

He puts his headphones down and moves towards the bathroom. Today is their day off but he went for a jog around the neighbourhood, taking advantage of the rare sunny day, the first one of the week. He needs to work hard to get there. He can’t wait to start proper training with Mr Cialdini on Monday and he seriously hopes he has forgotten his face and name so he can start fresh and show him his best. He jumps under the hot jet of water and smiles to himself. It has been a great week, really. The food served at the canteen is all right, his rink mates aren’t all assholes, and Leo even managed to get him to chat with them a little. That guy is a magnet, and how he’s able to be so cheerful and friendly with everyone is beyond him. But what he appreciates most is that Leo understands when he wants to be left alone and when it’s ok to push him a bit to join the conversation. Seriously he can’t complain. This new adventure is starting off better than he had hoped.

Otabek turns the water off and reaches for a towel to wrap around his waist while he starts drying his hair and styling it. It has been only few months since he decided to keep it long but he has his reasons to do so. That guy he met at the Brian Orser’s workshop in Toronto during the last season had really pissed him off. "Nice haircut! You’re my fan, right?" he had said. _What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?_ That annoying spoiled prick hadn’t left his side for the whole weekend that time. Otabek snorts at the memory and squints his eyes, looking at himself in the mirror, fixing the bun on the top of his head and nodding at his reflection. This new hairstyle is cool and it suits his personality okay? He doesn’t want to look like that asshole. 

He’s in the middle of his begrudging thoughts when he hears some noise coming from the room. Stomping feets, suitcases being dragged and people chatting loudly. 

_Fuck._ So his roommate is arrived at last? And what a perfect timing, catching him half naked in the bathroom.

“I hope the room is comfortable enough.” he hears Mr. Ortiz saying.

“Well it’s smaller than we thought to be honest.” a concerned female voice replies. “I’m not sure we will be able to fit everything in”. Sounds of the wardrobe being opened and drawers dragged in the background. 

“On aurait dû réserver une chambre double pour lui…” a stern male voice adds in. 

_Oh, so the guy is French then._

“Malheureusement, il n’y avait pas une disponible Alain, Celestino a bien vérifié lui-même” replies the female voice. “Thank you Mr Ortiz; we will manage, right JJ?”

No. 

Surely he misheard.

“Yes Mama, two wardrobes are enough for JJ!” utters a jaunty voice and everyone bursts into a laugh.

No way.

NO 

FUCKING 

WAY. 

This must be a joke right? Speaking of the devil and he shall appear? It can’t be it. Of all the people of the whole universe. Him. That guy. NO.  
Otabek quickly looks around the steamy room, knowing really well this bathroom has no bloody windows. No escape route except the door in front of him. _Shit_ , the door. Has he locked it? Better do it now . . .

“And this must be the washroom eh?” 

Too late. The handle turns down and a dazzling red parka appears in front of him. Two bright blue eyes blink in confusion and a pair of seagull-eyebrows move up in surprise.

SHIT.

“O-Otabek?!” blurts the newcomer. A big, genuine smile brightens his expression. 

“OTABEK!!” he shouts, moving forward, broadening his arms to hug the Kazakh who retreats backwards, grimacing with horror. 

“JEEH JEEH!!” a sudden squeal and a female hand is seizing the guy by the fluffy hood of his jacket, abruptly pulling him back. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING??” She looks at his son in disbelief, then at Otabek. 

“I’m really sorry!” she smiles awkwardly “We didn’t know you were. . .” she trails off, then quickly adds, “Please take your time to be . . . presentable.” With that she slams the door and starts shouting in French. 

Otabek is frozen in place, shivering and unable to think straight. 

HOLY 

FUCKING 

SHIT. 

What..what just happened? Surely he’s dreaming, and if this is a nightmare he better wake up right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this story is from an [Alexisonfire's song](https://youtu.be/HWPy9O06xIQ) of the same name: Drunks, Lovers, Sinners & Saints (that we highly suggest you to listen) and the title of the chapter is one line from the song's lyrics. Alexisonfire are a Canadian post-hardcore band that we both adore and that describe their music as "the sound of two Catholic high-school girls in mid-knife-fight"
> 
> If you want to read about that workshop in Toronto with Brian Orser you can find a flashback [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11674767/chapters/26972868)
> 
> TRANSLATIONS
> 
> бұл мүмкін емес. Сіздің ойыңыз қандай (Kazakh) = This is impossible. What is your opinion?
> 
> altynym (Kazakh) = my golden baby
> 
> Indove tu un le poi manco annusare, o bischero! (Italian dialect from Tuscany) = Where you can’t even smell them, you rascal!
> 
> On aurait dû réserver une chambre double pour lui (French Canadian) = We should have reserved a double room for him
> 
> Malheureusement, il n’y avait pas une disponible Alain, Celestino a bien vérifié lui-même (French Canadian) = Unfortunately, there wasn't more availability Alain, Celestino checked well himself
> 
> RELATED ART:  
> [Grumpy morning Otabek](https://ainitsuite-agape.tumblr.com/post/168962627264/remember-me-and-yakoucchu-promised-you-a-fanfic)  
> [Chibi Leo, JJ and Otabek](https://ainitsuite-agape.tumblr.com/post/168534930599/ainitsuite-agape-thats-right-if-you-are)


	2. If you swallow your pride you will choke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder: Otabek, JJ and Leo are all 16 years old.  
> WE KNOW: JJ is annoyingly childish and speaks in third person way too much; Otabek is savage. But bear with us! This story is also about personal growth, so now you see the worst, but very soon you will see the best. In both of them.
> 
> A big THANK YOU to our betas [realgeorgipopovich](http://realgeorgipopovich.tumblr.com/), [whatthef0x](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheF0x/pseuds/WhatTheF0x) and [starkysnarks](http://starkysnarks.tumblr.com/) for their invaluable help!
> 
> NOTE: **If you hover over any phrases that are not in English, the translation will be the hover text.**
> 
> If you're reading from mobile, you can find the translations in the end notes.

After quickly “making himself presentable” as Mrs Leroy nicely put it, Otabek takes a deep breath, rushes outside the bathroom and brace himself for impact. 

Not even ten minutes have passed since their arrival, but the Leroys have already covered both beds with an assorted mix of flashy and probably overpriced clothes, and still they’re struggling to take more things out of two big and heavy suitcases. JJ is standing between the beds, both hands on his hips, giggling something on the line of "It feels like being at the Marché aux Puces Métropolitain!". Otabek doesn't give a damn about what he means, but the comparison makes Mrs Leroy’s eyebrows twitch. 

"Oh dear! Alain darling, didn't I told you to put those button shirts on the top of everything? They're linen! Even if those were in here just for the car trip, they're already full of pleats! And I ironed them so well..." JJ’s mother pouts, while beads of sweat start forming on Otabek’s forehead. _Shit_ , if they manage to laid out all the stuff, he's screwed.

_I have to convince them to leave the room and pick another one. I will not give you this room Leroy, not without putting up a fight-_

"I don't think you can-" Otabek tries to protest, but the arm he suddenly feels around his shoulders freezes him in place. A musky whiff of patchouli with an hint of vanilla enwraps him. 

_The fuck? Who in his good mind would put on this kind of perfume? This is something you would use on a date, not as an everyday deodorant..._

"Otabek!" JJ beams at him, tightening his grip. "JJ surprised you so much you can’t find any words? I'm speechless too eh? It's really been a while!” his light blue eyes are sparkling and straight forward gazing into hazel ones. Then, they quickly move over his head and Jean Jacques’ genuine smile falters a bit. 

“What happened to your hair?” 

Feeling cornered, the Kazakh tries to stiffen his body even more, looking as uncomfortable as possible when the hands of the Canadian fiddle with his fluffy bun, without asking for permission. But of course JJ ignores the body language, keeps touching his hair and babbling nonsense because, how could you be uncomfortable around JJ?  
At least his father seems to get the hint. Either that, or he’s just annoyed by his son's behaviour, who knows. In any case Mr Leroy mutters something in French to his wife - something that Otabek hopes it goes on the line of "Make him stops this bullshit" - Nathalie sighs in reply and, without even rising her eyes from the clothes she’s folding, addresses his son. 

"JJ, stop fooling around. Could you please at least fold all your gitch?"

After a laconic “Okay”, JJ lets Otabek go and moves to helps his mother.

_I dare you to try this shit again without your parents around, Leroy._

Otabek doesn’t even have the time to let out a sigh of relief and fix whatever JJ had messed up with his stupid hands when Mrs Leroy, trying to be amusing or deadly serious, adds on "Actually, why don't you ask to your friend to help you? I'm sure he wouldn't mind it at all, right Otabek dear?"

The woman smiles at him like a shrewd old fox and JJ has the brilliant idea of moving to sit on the bed. Otabek's bed. That’s when Otabek snaps. A sudden rush of boiling blood creeps under the skin of his cheeks, politeness leaving place to deep annoyance, tension growing as he paces to get close to Jean Jacques, piercing him with his sharp gaze, determined to make him lift his ass from the bed. He doesn't care anymore, all he wants is the Leroys out of his room and- 

"Je ne suis pas encore convaincu." JJ's father suddenly blurts out with a sigh, rising his eyes from the almost empty suitcase and giving his wife a sceptical look. “Je pense qu'une chambre dans une famille d'accueil lui conviendrait mieux. Comme l'année dernière à Colorado Springs...”

Otabek stops in the liminal space between the beds, trying to figure out what Mr Leroy’s is saying. From his grave tone and the uncomfortable silence that settles in the room afterwards, he hopes they’re questioning their choices. And…did he hear him saying Colorado Springs? Perhaps there’s still hope he can get rid of them . . .

Nathalie raises her eyebrows in disbelief, looking at her husband with a face that says 'I can't believe you just said that'. She turns her gaze to her son, who’s unusually quiet. He looks lost for a moment, like a cornered rabbit. His parents’ sorrowful eyes are on him, holding their breaths, circling the wagons. 

JJ closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Then he smiles and, rising up from the bed, he sways on his long legs like he is listening to an imaginary music. "Don't worry Papa, maybe this place it's just a bit cramped, but it’s cozy. JJ likes it! But what I like most is the motto of this dorm: "Sharing is Caring". This means I will be always helped because people care for JJ eh? Even Otabek-no, Otabro is here for me!” he beams, fully confident again while his bright smile meets Otabek's angry eyebrows.

_Did he just bro me when we barely know each other? What's your fucking problem, dude?! Seriously . . ._

But before Otabek could deny anything, JJ starts babbling again "Can you believe it? We spent a weekend training together with Brian Orser and of course we became good friends, and now he's here! It must be a sign from heaven that we met again after that workshop! Otabro is going to help us transform this room into a JJ Style one! Sweet!”

_WAIT . . . FRIENDS? That time I learned your name just because you said it to me and to everyone else a THOUSAND times! Plus, the fuck are you saying?! You're completely losing the meaning of this place here! It's about mutual care! Not me being your fucking slave!_

_ME caring about YOU?_

_ME sharing with YOU?_

_For ME, YOU CAN JUST GO FUCK-_

"That's right my dear!" Mrs. Leroy claps her hands and smiles in relief, placing her reassured gaze on Otabek's furious expression. The fact that she doesn't seem bothered at all about his demeanour makes the Kazakh even more upset, to the point he opens his mouth for saying out his thoughts loud and clear, but JJ’s mother anticipates him, turning his hot blood suddenly cold. 

"This is exactly what your coach and our dear friend Celestino Cialdini promised us: A roommate who would truly and deeply care about you! And I know Celestino would never disappoint our expectations! I’m sure he chose our beloved Otabek here VERY carefully.” She squints her dark green eyes and grins to the boy standing near her son. And that’s about it. That’s when Otabek realises he’s really screwed.

So between a "This is JJ’s, place it here!" and a "This is JJ’s too, place it there!", in one night the room’s set up changes dramatically: The Canadian and the Fleurdelisé flags conquer the walls, followed by many pictures of JJ’s Canadian heroes, and yes, this includes also a poster of his parents’ most famous ice dance’s program: The Bolero that granted them the Olympic record back in the days. But plastering three quarters of the vertical space is not enough. Jean Jacques even gets away with putting some of his clothes in Otabek’s closet and drawers, because “There’s so much unused space in here! Surely Otabro is fine with it, eh?” and in all this Otabek has to help them, moving his stuff aside and pretend he doesn’t mind at all that the balance between his stuff and the Canadian’s one is totally unfairly favouring the latter. 

When they finally seems to consider the room to be “JJ Style” enough, Otabek hopes that the agony is over for the day. But no, it’s far from it. The Leroys insist on bringing him to dinner in the best restaurant Detroit has to offer, to thank him for his kindness and to say a proper goodbye to their beloved child. And of course there’s no way Otabek can refuse. He has to follow them like a puppy on a leash, internally cursing the day his path crossed JJ’s, hoping that aliens invade Earth on the spot and decide to abduct this verbose and over enthusiastic family (or him, at this point he doesn’t care anymore) for experiments. He could use a good lobotomy right about now.

After what seemed like geological ages, the Leroys finally, _finally_ make their way to oh!Canada with eyes wet and bellies full. 

Drained of all his energy, Otabek keeps tossing and turning in his bed. He has never felt so impossibly tired, but no matter what, he can't sleep, the sensation of having been used and played wrenching his guts. 

"The worst is over now. Those fuckers got what they wanted so...it all will be fine." he tells himself, trying to calm down. "I just need to stay away from him and everything will be okay." Letting out a sigh, he turns into his bed one more time, closes his eyes and tries to ignore the dreading feeling that the worst has indeed yet to come.

\---

As the weather’s forecast predicted, the first day of training with Mr Cialdini turns out to be a driving snow day since dawn. It’s a bit unusual to have a blizzard in March, but not impossible. It’s still winter after all. Anyway it’s good. A certain Kazakh boy, who got up early, just loves it when the weather matches his current mood. Especially when he gets the sight of his roommate drooling on his own pillow, left cheek pressed down in the wetness. _Yuck_.

He quickly showers and, when he’s back in the room, JJ still slumbers. Otabek shakes his head in disbelief, while setting everything he needs for the rink in his duffel bag in religious silence, glancing from time to time the sleeping presence few meters away. He has no intentions to wake him up. No way in hell. If JJ is not able to keep up with living on his own, then it’s not Otabek’s problem. It doesn’t have to be. Moreover, Leo is going to give him a lift to the rink with his car, like the awesome bro that he is, and no Canadian’s asshole is going to join the ride if he didn’t book it in advance.  
JJ’s phone starts to buzz for what’s like the seventh time maybe? moving loudly around on the wooden nightstand, but his roommate seems unaffected by it. On the contrary, he even starts snoring a bit.  
Otabek sighs, forcing down the good-boy-spirit that creeps inside him. Leroy doesn’t deserve to be woken up. Not after what him and his obnoxious family did yesterday. His eyes run over the transformed room and stop on the only empty spot left: The wall near his own bed. _That’s totally unfair_ , he reminds to himself, zipping his black parka and putting the bag on his shoulder. One last icy glare to JJ’s peaceful sleeping expression and Otabek is gone, quietly closing the door behind his back.

Walking towards the exit of the Nest, a mob of young athletes gathers around the self-services area. Some sit alone, taking little sips of hot coffee with trembling hands, others are tapping nervously on their phones. Otabek smirks while having his breakfast, thinking that - if Leo is waiting for him in the car - he’s surely doing the same. All of them share the same half-thrilled and half-terrified expression, more than ready to show what they can do to Mr Cialdini, but also worried to find out if he will consider them potential history makers or just random nameless juniors.

As if on cue, Otabek’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his windbreaker. He picks it up and carefully checks only the recent message, ignoring the bunch of old stuff that he will never read.

> **Leo** \- Waiting in the parking lot buddy!

He moves towards the exit but, before he can grasp the handle, a gentle voice calls for him.

"Good morning, young man. Heading to the rink?" 

"Morning, Madam." he politely replies to Mrs Ortiz, the receptionist. "Just making sure to be at the rink before the weather got worse."

"Smart choice! Mr Cialdini will be pleased with your attitude."

"I hope so, Madam." Otabek tries to leave, but the woman seems eager to chat, triggering the infamous, dangerous butterfly effect with her next question: "And your companion?"

Otabek freezes, taking a deep breath with his nose. "He's waiting in the parking area, Madam.” maybe he can handle this smoothly “Now, I really should be going . . ."

"Oh, you mean Leo? The one with the orange Chevrolet Mazda! He passed in the reception to say hi earlier. Such a lovely boy. He's from Chicago, right? Since his four sisters lives and works in the city if I recall correctly. . ."

_Why are you asking me if you probably know even how many hair grows on his ass?_

"...Yeah, Leo." Otabek nods. "Now, If you’ll excuse me-"

"Wait a second young man. Maybe I didn’t explain myself clearly. With your companion, I meant your roommate, my darling." The woman smiles ardently. "Where's he?”

_What’s wrong with this place and this people?_

"Ah. Uhm, well..." Otabek feels cornered. Would it make any sense if he says that Leroy has left before him? No. If he gets caught lying now, this is going to turn into a bigger mess than it already is. At this point all he can do now is telling her the truth, while seriously starting to question the policy of this place. 

"He was still not ready, and it was getting late." he finally admits "So I, um.. I was..." 

"Leaving without him?" Mrs Ortiz face turns dead serious all of sudden. 

"But Madam, he was still asleep!" He tries to justify himself. _This is madness._ The receptionist has no idea of what he had to endure yesterday, and why on earth does he have to excuse himself? "I was only- " But the lady is having none of his shit.

"You thought it was better to leave him on his own? I didn't expected this kind of behaviour from you, young man. Today is such a big day for both of you! Do you have any idea of how’s going to feel when he will realize that you left without him?”

Her voice sounds so painfully severe and overly dramatic to Otabek’s ears. But he knows all too well what it means to be left behind, or alone by yourself. The good-boy-spirit starts crawling inside him again. _Damn it_. Even if she didn't have any idea about how much of an asshole Leroy was, if her intention was to make Otabek feel ashamed about himself, well then she had succeeded. 

He bows his head, gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the other guests of the Nest passing by in pairs or groups. _Nobody is left behind, like ever._

"I'm sorry, Madam." he mutters. 

His reaction seems to soften Mrs Ortiz's expression. "Well, it seems that you have realized your mistake. It's not the end of the world, now go upstairs and wake him up, if he's still asleep. Don't worry about De La Iglesia, I will tell him to wait both of you. Now just hurry up and go!"

Otabek nods and runs back to his room. Maybe in the meantime Leroy has woken up and is now ready to go? He hopes so! But the harsh reality is never as you wish it would be. When he bangs the door open, the bloody Canadian is exactly where he left him, now wrapped even more tightly in the blankets. . . 

Desperation and anger wipe off any sense of guilt from Otabek's heart. In a fit of rage, he grabs the pillow from his own bed and smack it HARD on JJ’s face.

Leroy jolts awake with a gasp, looking around himself in confusion."Ouch! What's. . .?" 

"WE’RE LATE! WAKE THE FUCK UP!" Otabek barks out, discarding the pillow on his bed.

Jean Jacques’ sleepy eyes blink at Otabek's words in confusion. _Get out of that bed now! We're late! Rise your fucking ass! The snow will be too much, are you listening to me..._

Seriously, what's happening? 

Then he connects the dots and the realisation sinks in. Judging from Otabek's clothes, he is ready for heading out to the rink, and he is...still in pajamas?

They're late because of JJ!! 

"Oh no, no, no, I...JJ can't be late today . . .” anguish starts crawling under his skin. “W-what time is it? And w-why the alarm didn't work..?!" 

The Canadian jumps out of the bed, grabs his phone with trembling hands and realizes with startling horror that it was in silent mode. But what paralyzes him is the distressing amount of missing call from his parents "I- It can't be..." 

“О Құдай, what’s wrong with you? There's no point of standing there like..." but before Otabek could finish his sentence he’s distracted by the sudden vibration of his phone on his pocket.

> **Leo** \- I’m so sorry dude but I have to leave without you . . .

Even JJ notices that Otabek is turning pale. "W-Who's that from..? Not my parents, right?” blabbers Jean Jacques, moving behind his roommate and tilting his head to read the screen. No, Otabek is too shocked for getting mad and telling him to mind his own business.

> **Leo** \- My roommate and the other guys are pestering me because “what if we get caught into a snowstorm?” and to be honest they’re not wrong. We need to go. So sorry for this bro, I’ll give you a ride back, no matter what. I promise. 

> **Leo** \- Just ask someone else who’s going in that direction. But just hurry. It seems that Celestino is already at the rink!

"Ask WHOM!?" Otabek sighs, passing one hand on his face in frustration. Now he has to come up quickly with a plan B to get to the rink in time.

Meanwhile, JJ becomes very silent. He turns his back to Otabek, reaches his own bed, quietly climbs on it and sits in the middle of the mattress, face buried in his knees, hugging them tightly to his chest. 

"Leroy?" Otabek blinks in disbelief at that pitiful sight. "What the hell are you doing...?" 

"JJ deserves to be left here to die. He's such a burden." his expressionless and muffled voice starts to chant, as he starts to swing like a rocking chair. 

_No, no, no, not a panic attack now Leroy, please._

"Cialdini will get mad. Mama and Papa will get mad. Otabek will get at the rink late. It’s all JJ’s fault, leave JJ here and go alone."

The whole room becomes deadly silent. Perhaps Otabek really left without him? Good, it’s what he deserves, the Canadian ruminates, until he hears the wardrobe getting opened, drawers dragged, a bag unzipped, rustling of clothes.

When he raises his head to check what's going on, one of his t-shirts hits him in the face. He squeals in panic, removing the garment from his mug and discovering that Otabek is giving him his back, while stuffing things in bulk inside JJ's duffle bag: Random sports clothes, an entire tissue box, an halfway empty water bottle that was on the nightstand and...a hawaiian shirt? 

"Where are your ice-skates?" barks Otabek, without even turning his head in his direction. "I'll take them while you you get dressed."

JJ looks at the t-shirt in his hand and the pair of sport pants randomly lying on the bed. "B-but like this you'll be late..."

"I’M ALREADY LATE LEROY." states matter of factly the Kazakh, scrutinising the room until he gets sight of the distinctive bag where JJ's ice skates are. Thank God Mrs. Leroy left everything that was needed on hand. 

"I can't leave without you."

The Canadian's eyes twinkle with tears. "Otabro . . ."

_Don't "Otabro" me. Didn't you heard what I said? I fucking can’t leave without you! I mean, I LITERALLY can’t!_

Otabek groans exasperated, while JJ finally starts to get dressed, not after complaining about the clothes he has been given - a vertical striped black and white shirt and a pair of black pants with a white line on the sides, "So uncool." according to the Canadian - and after foiling another sort of panic attack from him, because his hair wasn't "JJ styled" enough and Otabek had the brilliant idea of using an ancient technique that his older brother called "Spit-Rub-Spread".

"I can't believe you spitted in your hands and touched my hair with them!!" cries JJ, slamming the room's door shut behind his back and running after Otabek, shivering at the moist sensation on his head. 

"Shut up! That's the best I could do!" Otabek snarls back, rushing down the stairs. 

JJ lets out a dramatic sigh, then he quickly type a message to his parents with quivering fingers, giving them a blatant lie and switching off the phone, pretending he’s out of battery, guilt and shame spreading inside his guts like a wildfire.

When they reach the hall, no one is in sight. The place that was crowded of enthusiastic and noisy boys just half of an hour ago, now is utterly void and wrapped in a disheartening silence, save for the threatening sound of the blizzard outside, where the snow is swiftly covering the entire paving made of concrete.

Not even that bloody gossipy Mrs Ortiz is at the reception. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

The entire situation seems like a surreal nightmare. A bad joke. A candid camera. 

Placing a trembling hand on the glass part of the french-door's entrance and looking outside, JJ tries to ignore the dryness in his mouth, which always foreshadows morning sickness. There's already a scary storm outside but...Otabro is here for him, he will definitely come up with a solution in no time, right? 

Before he could say anything, Otabek sides him near the entrance, the hood of his parka already over his head and the zip totally up, covering part of his face and mouth. Only his almond-shaped eyes are bare, and they’re literally burning with determination. JJ's words rest on the tip of his tongue. 

"Since there's no other choice," Otabek's tone is deep, even if the fabric of the parka is slightly muffling it. "We'll go to the rink by foot."

An intense moment of silence, before a pitiful shriek sound escapes from Jean Jacques’ mouth, who’s blurting out all sorts of complains about the plan. "...Not to mention that with all this snow, JJ will get a booter!" But all he gets as reply is a mean angry look from his roommate. "Y-you know, when water penetrates your poor unsuspecting shoes-"

"LEROY!" Otabek shouts in exasperation, making the Canadian flinch. "All I want now is your ass out of this place, not a fucking Canadian slang lesson!” He moves behind JJ and adds on “Put your hood on, or whatever you want to call it, and MOVE!" and he starts to push him out, pressing on his shoulders. 

JJ grimaces and tries to resist, pointing his heels on the floor to no avail. Even if Otabek is shorter than him and in theory - only in theory - less strong, he manages to shove him out of the door without much effort, shooting him in the biting chill snowstorm.

"OTABRO! PLEASE WAIT!!" he screams, knowing really well that walking to the rink is the only sensible solution, but arguing nevertheless. He tries to catch up with the Kazakh who's fighting against the strong wind and heading towards the rink. Both of them are trying to hold their hoods up and eyes open. "It's too dangerous!” he fibs, hoping Otabek would buy his lie. “We should wait before-”

"Dangerous," snorts Otabek. He has tried to shake JJ with few things already: Insults, sarcasm, even the harsh reality. Let's see how it goes with patriotism. "If you think this is dangerous, you never saw a real blizzard before! Are you sure you're Canadian?"

The provocation seems to trigger something inside the guy, because all of sudden he picks up the pace, reaches Otabek’s side and oh, his eyebrows are twitching and not because of the strong wind. To Otabek’s deep satisfaction, it’s annoyance.

"French Canadian! Haven’t you seen the flags?"

Otabek gives him a devilish smirks, trying to think about something else that could make those damn seagull-wing-shaped eyebrows twitch in even more anger, but the shrill sound of a car horn startles him. Their eyes widens as if they're seeing a mirage when a blue pickup truck stops beside them. The driver's window rolls down and the familiar jovial face of Mr. Ortiz's appears.

"Boys, what are you doing there?"

_Thank God we're saved! Finally a blessing!_

Before Otabek could talk, Jean Jacques shoves his head in the half-opened window car, making the old man jerk back at his panicked cries. 

"PLEASE HELP US, SIR!! JJ IS-” but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Otabek grabs him by the parka’s hood and drags him back. "Otabro! Why-"

Otabek mutes him with a deadly look. "Mr. Ortiz, we don't have much time," he starts to explain. "We need to get at the rink as soon as possible. Could you please give us a lift?"

Mr. Ortiz nods. “Jump in boys!” he smiles while slowly getting back on the icy street. He sets off to the rink and . . . arrives at the place twenty five minutes later. Okay, there's a snowstorm outside, but it usually takes ten minutes by car from the Nest. 

"Safety first young men!” laughs the dormitory’s owner. “I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to two promising ice skating stars!" Mr. Ortiz tries to lighten the atmosphere, but all he gets from the boys is a polite thanks and a bow of their heads while they run towards the entrance.

_Ice skating stars my ass, I would be lucky if I get to clean the rink’s toilets if things go on like this . . ._

"It's so blue it hurts. If only it had been painted red!" Jean Jacques complains while passing the entrance of the Detroit Skating Club. Otabek ignores him, forcing down the impulse to smack him in the face.

Approaching the limitation area, they finally see the rink. Boys and girls are encircling Mr Cialdini, who’s focused in explaining a certain exercise on the ice. Otabek and JJ quickly put on their skates on and move near the barrier.

When the coach gets a sight of the two newcomers, he’s totally unimpressed and he ignores them, like they are freaking invisible, his attention back to the other skaters. Well, they couldn’t expect nothing less to be honest. At least he doesn’t seem that mad, which is cool. Perhaps they will be not scolded...Otabek and Jean Jacques are not sure if they should reach the rest of the group on the ice or wait to be called. They’re in the middle of taking off their blade guards and join the group, when finally Cialdini decides to approach them at the limitation, holding a folder and a pen. 

JJ feels suddenly bold. " _Buonegiornissima!_ " he blurts out loudly, waving his hand. "JJ has overslept! But now he’s more than ready for showtime!"

Cialdini raises an eyebrow, his face unreadable, while Otabek’s mouth is wide open in disbelief.

"Leroy and...Altin, right?" states the trainer, checking the list of names and ignoring that ridiculous greet for obvious reasons. Both of them only nods. "I had already marked you absent for today."

JJ's big smile dies on his lips "But- We're right here!"

"I'm aware, thanks for gracing us with your presence." Celestino replies dryly. "Now, if you don't mind _signori_ , you can take off your skates.” 

The two guys expressions are pricelessly baffled. He adds on “No ice session for the late comers. I’m sure some cardio here in the side lines would clear up your minds.” And with that he returns to the rest of the group, leaving them speechless on the spot. 

"..To be honest, JJ minds-" the Canadian mutters, glancing at his roommate “I was sure that my Italian would have impressed Mister Cial-” but Otabek has heard enough shit coming out from that mouth for today and he has enough.

"Shut the fuck up, Leroy." he growls giving him his back and starting doing some push-ups, anger, shame and frustration making him shiver and greets his teeth.

Sweating their ass out off ice while the others are getting their first lesson from the genius Italian-American coach is a proper torture. Otabek catches Leo's pitiful gaze in their direction once, but he resolutely avoids eye contact. 

_This is what you get for being a good boy and following the rules, Otabek_. He swears all kind of insults in Kazakh in his mind, resentment building up in his guts.

When the lessons ends, Celestino gathers everyone near him, calling also the two losers who didn’t get to touch the ice for the day.

"As I mentioned earlier," Cialdini declares, placing one hand on his sculpted hips, "Beyond training and hard work, there's an important word that my very first coach taught me and I want all of you to learn, and that word is "YES". Yes, I will be respectful and productive. Yes, I will reach the rink on time and be presentable. Yes, I will follow my coach’s instruction and I will be a successful figure skater.” He towers over all of them, imposing his presence and scrutinizing everyone with his piercing green gaze. “I learnt to say yes, and here I am now, teaching to almost one hundred young ones my will."

_What everyone say it's true...the guy's got a pair of brass ones._

"So try to learn it for yourself too, if you want a good, long and productive collaboration with me, _chiaro_?" In response all the skaters nods, but Celestino gives them a skeptical look. 

"What's with that nod? Lemme hear a big YES over here!"

Some of them burst in a laugh, but in the end everyone shouts the three letters out loud.

"So, you," and Cialdini point at a girl with a distinctive tuft of blue hair. "I don't wanna see that color on your hair tomorrow, okay? You’re here to learn and standing out of the crowd will do you no good if your skills don’t match your flashy appearance." The young woman blushes and nods. “Yes, coach.”

“And you,” this time...yeah, he's pointing directly at Otabek, who blinks.

"I can sport this long hair with pride since I've earned the right of choosing a gimmick for myself on the ice. Do you think that arriving late at the rink gives you the right of having that stupid punkiddo haircut?"

Otabek's face burst in fire, his heart beating fast inside his rib cage.

"Should I feel impressed by that, or intimidated?" 

"No! I-" Otabek tries to come out with something, anything.

"So it's just bad taste of yours and nothing else? Good. Tomorrow I don't want to see that _punkabbestia_ haircut again. When you're gonna show me some respect and prove me your skills, I will allow you to even have viking braids for all I care, but until that day you, that pretty lady over there and all the rest of this group will try to be as plain as possible. None of you are in a position to choose a style for yourself at the moment. Remember you’re juniors and you’re here to learn. Don’t get ahead of yourselves, kiddos.”

And with that he dismisses the class, save for the two latecomers. “I’m not finished with you two. You can help Mr Anderson to polish the ice for the hockey team.”

Otabek had never felt so humiliated in all his life, not even that time in St Petersburg at Yakov Feltman’ Summer Camp. It was a different kind of mortification back then, the stinging pain that comes with the realisation that your skills are not enough to keep up with the other juniors athletes, way more talented and natural gifted than you. The burning shame of being put in the novices class, because your body is not flexible enough to cope with what others can do effortlessly. The acknowledgment that you suck, and you can either work harder than anyone else or give up already.  
That humiliation was something deeply personal, something he could blame only on himself. But this, this is another story entirely. 

“Mr Cialdini, sir,” JJ moves near the man, “I was wondering if...if you could just avoid telling my parents about today?” his unconfident smile and fiddling hands are reflected in Celestino's judging glance.

“I'm not reporting to Nattie that her son is apparently incapable of setting an alarm properly, just because it would break her heart!" JJ looks utterly terrified. “Slacking off and then making your mouth run from the very first day...so Leroy style, it's like I've stepped back in time." Jean Jacques gives him a puzzled look, but the coach ignores it and continues "I will hear no more bullshit. You want to stay here in Detroit? My friendship with your mother will give you no more benefits than finding you a roof off season and not slamming you and your punkiddo friend out of my rink today.” And with this he turns his back on the skater and, with a swift of his fluent mane, he proclaims: “What happens in the rink stays at the rink. But don’t abuse my kindness, kiddo.”

\---

Otabek is still shaking, boiling rage twisting inside him like a caged beast yearning to break free. Mr Cialdini had finally agreed to let them go, after the rest of their rink mate has left the locker room already. That’s good. At least he doesn’t have to bear the questioning, pitiful gazes or the mockery of his fellow skaters. Otabek strides into the corridor, breathing heavily and forcing himself to cool down. He’s utterly mad and, now that the coach’ surveillance is over, he would gladly smash the locker room down. Destroy everything. Or just Leroy’s head. Yes, that would do just fine. 

“Otabek! Otabek wait for me!” 

The guts this cursed guy has are really something. Otabek tries to speed up, grinding his teeth, but JJ catches up and grabs him by the elbow, looking for eye contact.

“It could have been worse, eh?” 

The awkward smile on Jean Jacques’ face drops the moment Otabek rudely hits his hand and gets free of his grasp.

“D o n ’ t - t o u c h - m e.” he hisses. “Don’t you EVER try to touch me.” 

JJ is speechless, paralyzed on the spot, his hand still mid air, big blue eyes wide, like a lost puppy. _Maybe no one had ever hit him before today?_

“I don’t know what game you’re playing Leroy, but it’s not funny and I don’t want to have any part in it, am I making myself clear?”

Otabek’s words are as sharp as knives, but his piercing gaze is even more threatening, feral like a wild animal. 

“I’m not here for passing the time, I’m not here as your fucking baby sitter. I’m here because I NEED everything Mr Cialdini can teach me. And I will not, I WILL NOT let another day like today ever happen again!” 

Clenching his fists, Otabek uses all his will power to steady himself, never breaking eye contact. He can pass over on many things, but there’s no way in hell he will tolerate anyone trying to sabotage his skating career, the dream in which he’s literally gambling all his life on. He’s ready to fight to the last breath for it, no holds barred.

JJ opens his mouth as if he’d dare to say something. He bites his trembling lower lip instead, feeling tears pricking on his eyes. _Not now JJ, not now._

“Pull yourself together, Leroy.” snarls Otabek before turning his back and moving towards his locker. He quickly collects his bag, roughly throwing all his things inside in an attempt to let off steam. His mobile buzzes. Leo is waiting for him in the parking lot. _Blessed be that guy._ Without even taking a shower or changing clothes, without even sparing a second look to his roommate, Otabek leaves the premises, slamming the door behind him.

Jean Jacques blinks twice, the smashing sound of the closing hatch reverberating in his ears, his vision blurred. Scratching his undercut, he smiles awkwardly, laughing even a bit. A nervous laugh, a rehearsed one, carefully crafted for this kind of situations, when he fucks up big time.  
Problem is, there’s no audience for his show. He’s utterly alone in the smelly, empty room. He has been caught off guard and his reaction has been slow. No need to laugh and pretend he’s not affected now.  
A sigh escapes his lips while he moves towards the showers and starts peeling off his clothes. It’s only after he’s under the hot jet of water, hands covering his eyes, that he finally allows himself to pour out the heaviness of his heart. 

\---

“Thank you for waiting me, Leo.” 

“No worries man, I promised you right?” 

The mellow and chilled beats of Iron Lion Zion wrap around the car seats like a warm blanket. It makes an odd contrast to the freezing weather outside, but it’s a welcoming summer breeze in a day that Otabek can’t wait to be over. He jumps in and quickly closes the door, while Leo reverse out of the parking spot. Resolute to stay silent during the whole ride from the rink to the Nest, the Kazakh purposefully turns his eyes to the window to avoid small talk. Not that the other passengers are so much inclined to chat with him anyway. The three guys in the back seats are more interested in whispering between them, and the laid back reggae music can’t do much to relieve the awkward tension inside the old Chevrolet. Otabek can clearly tell that the fuckers are talking shit about him and Leroy, but he doesn’t even remembered their names so, whatever they’re saying, he couldn’t care less. Leo rummages in the messy pile of CDs he has stored between the seats and stops the car at a red signal. Otabek just wishes to get in his room as soon as possible, take a hot shower, execute the mandate he got from Mr Cialdini and be done for the day. Absentmindedly he fiddles with his messy bun and leave out a muffled sigh that steam up the window, blurring the moving city landscape. He absolutely wants to do everything before that bloody Canadian can reach the dormitory. 

An unmistakable groovy guitar riff blasts in the car, demanding Otabek’s attention and saving him from his gloomy thoughts. Phil Anselmo’s hoarse voice starts to sing and Leo follows him, moving his head to the shredded tempo.

_♫ Can't you see I'm easily bothered by persistence_  
_One step from lashing out at you_  
_You want in to get under my skin_  
_And call yourself a friend_  
_I've got more friends like you_  
_What do I do?♫_

Otabek can help but chuckle at the not-so-subtle message his friend is sending to the rinkmates on the back seat, who are now silent and frankly confused. 

_♫ RE - SPECT ! WALK! WHAT DID YOU SAY ?_

_RE - SPECT! WALK ! ARE YOU TALKING TO ME ? ♫_

Seeing the Kazakh finally relaxing a bit, Leo considers his mission achieved and park in front of the Nest with a big grin on his face as the Pantera’ song fades off.

Leo’s roommate and the other two guys awkwardly get off the Chevrolet and quickly say goodbye to both of them before disappearing inside the dormitory.

“Serves them right!” chuckle Leo, fishing out his phone and start typing a text.

“Thanks Leo, I owe you one.” half smiles Otabek.

“Naah, I just have zero tolerance for bullshit man, and I want everyone to be happy.” shrugs the Chicagoans. “Now, let’s check how JJ is coping.” 

Hearing his roommate’s name brings Otabek back to the harsh reality. If Leo is going to give him a lift, he has less time that he thought. He jumps off the car with a “Catch you later!” and quickly runs into his room, carefully avoiding the reception and Mrs Ortiz.

\---

When Jean Jacques finally reaches room 27, the corridor is quiet. Everyone is in their rooms or downstairs in the canteen. His hand trembles a bit and lingers over the door’s handle. 

What kind of face shall he put on with his roommate? 

Taking his phone out of his parka’s left pocket, JJ opens the front camera to check himself. His eyes are red and puffy from crying, but . . . he can always pretend he messed up with the shampoo and laughs about it. It’s a trick that usually works. He tries to fix his fringe with his fingers and then he smiles to his reflection, taking a deep breath. “It’s JJ Style..” he whispers to himself, closing his eyes.

He enters the room with a grin, only to find it empty. But not for long. The bathroom’s door opens just few seconds after, revealing a dishevelled Otabek, shirtless and with his hair the way JJ remembered them from the workshop where they firstly met: No trace of the messy bun, freshly shaved undercut and trimmed tufts on top, still fluffy and soft from the shower. JJ can’t help it but widening his smile and, without thinking, he just beams “OH! You look way bett..”

“Just shut up, Leroy.” snarls the Kazakh. If looks could kill, the Canadian would be turning to ashes by now.

Startled, JJ frowns, helplessly watching Otabek as he quickly puts on a plain white t-shirt and a black hoodie on top. Following him with his gaze as he gathers his laptop, headphones, a box Jean Jacques has no idea what it’s for and, putting his hood on to cover his hair, swiftly disappears out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter comes from the lyrics of [Midnight regulations](https://youtu.be/U-y2Ic-Aaq4) by Alexisonfire
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> Je ne suis pas encore convaincu (French Canadian) = I’m not convinced of this yet
> 
> Je pense qu'une chambre dans une famille d'accueil lui conviendrait mieux. Comme l'année dernière à Colorado Springs... (French Canadian) = I think that a single room is more suitable for him, and maybe another host family like last year in Colorado Springs..
> 
> О Құдай/O Kudai (Kazakh) = Oh my god
> 
> SONGS:
> 
> [Iron Lion Zion](https://youtu.be/tBWFofJSm-c) by Bob Marley
> 
> [Walk](https://youtu.be/Evc3Xtc84N0) by Pantera  
>  
> 
> [CHAPTER'S ART](https://ainitsuite-agape.tumblr.com/post/170573126919/just-a-teasing-from-chapter-2-of-mine-and)


	3. Strange things happens in the night time hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: **If you hover over any phrases that are not in English, the translation will be the hover text.**
> 
> If you're reading from mobile, you can find the translations in the end notes.

♫ _And I know someday that it'll all turn out,_  
_You'll make me work so we can work to work it out_  
_And I promise you kid that I'll give so much more than I get..._ ♫ 

Otabek deeps his head under the pillow, trying to cut out the sound of the feisty song coming from the bathroom, loud enough to be clearly audible from closed doors. 

_Michael Bublé again? Seriously?_

He sighs through his nose, cracking one eye open and mumbling few unintelligible whines as his mind wanders on some bittersweet middle school memories, back to the time when he was living in Moscow with his older brother Daniar - Danik for their beloved parents, Dan for him and their friends. That crazy genius bastard used to listen to Motörhead and other heavy metal songs pretty much at any given moment of the day when he was home. That’s why Otabek is used to sleep with and being woken up by music. But there's a huge difference between being lulled to sleep by something warm and familiar like his brother curses to the graduation’s exams mixed to the electric guitar riffs, and being woken up by the overjoyed whistling of a Canadian asshole listening to the same pop music playlist every fucking Sunday morning. Come on, it’s their only day off practice, why can’t Leroy spend it sleeping like any sensible person, or doing something different than vexing him? From the day he arrived here ‘till...

_..April. It's been over a month that I'm bearing with this Котакбас, and what’s worse is that I will surely not see him leaving this place anytime soon._

Otabek flips on his back, spreading his arms wide open on the mattress like a surrendered soldier. There’s no way he will say it out loud to anyone, but much to his deep annoyance, he has to admit that his roommate’s got skills.

Soon after their catastrophic first day, Jean Jacques Leroy proved to him and to the entire rink that he’s something more than a one-hit wonder skater like so many juniors around.  
Moreover, Otabek’s outburst of rage and Cialdini’s scold had the hoped effect on him. Now JJ sets up the phone's alarm every night - checking if it works like ten times before going to sleep - he wakes up early everyday for practice and school, preparing his bag in the evening and not just before going to the rink, like he probably used to do during his stay in Colorado Springs. Or maybe his host family was doing it for him? Who knows.

"Thanks for the tip Altin, you're a life savior!"

Sometimes Otabek wonders how someone like JJ survived in Colorado Springs, since he pretty much acts like a spoiled child here in Detroit. He seems absolutely clueless about his odious and hard to kill habits, like his arrogant and egocentric way of speaking, for a start. But Otabek’s wondering usually doesn’t last long. He has learned to deal with Jean Jacques’ overwhelming attitude by using stoic indifference, sprinkled with some nods at the right time. The problem is, their rinkmates follow the same tactic, and honestly how could you blame them? It comes as no surprise that JJ's behaviour was off-putting to the less gifted juniors and, as an obvious result, they ignored him for good after the first few days of training.  
The only one who shows some sympathy for JJ is Leo, perhaps because he’s the one who has known him the longest? After all they used to be rinkmates in Colorado Springs too, and regardless, Leo is always pretty chill with everyone. He listens to JJ’s chatter, nodding at the right moments and even replying sometimes, seemingly unfazed. And it would be all nice and cuddly if only Leo would refrain from always try to include Otabek in the “conversation”. Quite often Otabek gives him the _‘Hell no, please leave me out of this’_ look, but he rarely gets away with it, and he inevitably has to surrender to his ill fate, nodding in unison with Leo at the umpteenth bullshit story that JJ shares with them. 

Of course Jean Jacques' isolation hasn't gone amiss to Cialdini, and certainly he hasn’t overlooked JJ’s raw talent, that was already in his blood. Their coach noticed these things before anyone else at the rink, but strangely enough, he never pointed them out, almost like he doesn't mind at all seeing JJ alone by himself. 

_It's a good sign._ Otabek observes. _Cialdini wants JJ to be focused on the lesson and nothing else._ The confirmation of his thoughts comes when Leroy starts to get scolded more than anyone else, which is VERY promising because, if their mentor wouldn't give a damn about Jean Jacques, he could have let the moron free to do whatever he sees fit.

Otabek considers himself lucky he has been scolded few times already. But when he gets reprimanded for the stiffness of his body, he accepts the tirade with his head down - like any sane person who wants to learn a lesson would do. On the other hand, Leroy's weapon of choice against the coach’s criticism is speaking his mind, like the idiot that he is. The fact that he probably knows Cialdini from before - _didn’t Mrs Leroy said that Cialdini is a good friend of hers?_ \- maybe is reason enough for JJ to feel bold and entitled to have an argument with his coach, to the point of even fight back the 'yes rule' sometimes. 

Otabek has mixed feeling about this: he doesn’t like the idea of talking back to someone with more experience, it sounds really childish and disrespectful to his ears, but at the same time he can’t deny that he respects the way JJ fights for his ideas.

_Great stamina, a right balance between stability, medium-term predictability and flexibility: There's no doubt that he’s one of the best in our group. I give him that._

Turning around on his bed, Otabek glances at the bathroom’s door as Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston are now singing that _there can be miracles, if you believe_ , and JJ is whistling along. At least he’s not singing. There’s no way he can reach their high notes. Otabek bets JJ can't carry a tune in a basket anyway.

_There must something he can’t do well, beside socializing with people..._

Because let’s be honest: it’s not fair that nature gifted Jean Jacques with every possible advantage to be ‘the best athlete’. His parents gave him premium quality skaters’ genes, he has a lithe though well fit body at sixteen, when most of the other juniors are still trying to grow a beard or build some definition on their pecs and belly. He’s the tallest of the group, he had his grown spurt last year - as Leo confirmed - so, contrary to the rest of his mates, JJ had already found his new balance and he’s more consistent on jumps than the rest of them. Speaking of grown spurt, Otabek is still hoping to have one soon, if it need be, but so far he’s settled on 1.60 something meters. He’s not sure he will get any taller than that and to be honest, he’s not sure he wants to. Skating is a sport of millimeters and hundredths of a second timing, especially for jumps. Any amount of growth can throw your jumps off. If you get taller you have very little control over where your new axis is and you need to relearn how to be symmetrical around your body. 

Anyway, let’s be totally objective on this: JJ is good looking. Dark hair, icy blue eyes, captivating smile. More than once Otabek caught some of their female rinkmates staring intently at him. But if JJ notices them, save yourself if you can! He always smirks and winks, slowly running his index finger on the line of his jaw, making a total fool of himself and embarrassing the shit out of the girls.

_When you believe_ fades off and Leroy re-emerges from the bathroom, glowing after a long shower, dressed in comfy workout clothes, but not the ones he uses for training at the rink. No, today he wears black baggish trousers and a zipped hoodie, red on the upper part, black on the bottom, with a tiny white V shaped line to separate the two colors. JJ swings on his hips towards the beds and meets his roommate with a confident smile.

"Would you like me to refresh your memory?" he chuckles "It's Sunday! And you're totally wasting it rolling into your blankets, eh?" 

Otabek rises one single eyebrow. "So what? Are you my mom now, Leroy?"

"I knew you would forget it” Jean Jacques carries on, ignoring the question “You’re so damn lucky to have me as a roommate ‘cause JJ remembers everything!”

Otabek fights the urge to deep his head under the pillow again. Instead, he closes his eyes and breathes heavily.

“I’m meeting Leobro and we’re going to a breakdance event. He told us about it two days ago, now you remember? And you said you would come with us!” 

Otabek sighs, frustrated. “I didn’t say that. I just said I would think about it.”

"Aw come on" JJ insists, "It will be fun! And we could even try some moves!"

"Thanks, but I’ll pass." Otabek dryly replies. He’s hurting everywhere after yesterday’s practice. Cialdini wiped them out, like he does every Saturday as he knows they have a whole free day to recover. Otabek wonders where JJ and Leo can find the energy to even think to do some break dance today. Perhaps it all comes down to the flexibility his damn body doesn’t have. When the thought crosses his mind, his mood darkens even more.

“Otabrooo. Don’t be so grumpy! You’re still in time to come with us! Just take a quick shower and we can head downstairs together!”

_Why Leroy has to be so pushy? I said no already, why can’t he let go?_

“Actually I have other plans.” 

"Okay, cool." JJ crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head "Like what?"

“Well, it’s none of your business.” Otabek utters, his patience already growing thin. JJ pouts, so Otabek adds "Sleeping. And after, that maybe trying to fix this empty wall on my side with some of my stuff."

"You can do that later! And I can help you, I have some ideas..." but the death stare he receives from Otabek makes him stutter. JJ suddenly loses his cheerful tone and his voice gets a soft and little sad pitch. "J-just… Come on. You prefer to stay here all alone instead of being with JJ?"

"I always enjoyed being in this room in complete solitude before you came here." Otabek sounds definitely pissed off. "But now I have to see you everyday: in the room, at the rink, at school… Am I asking too much if I want few hours by myself?"

Leroy seems to finally get it as his confident smile falters. He clenches his jaw and lowers his eyes, defeated. 

_Ah, what a joyful sight._ Otabek gives him his back and adjust his pillow under his head, satisfied that he got the last word. There’s a brief moment of silence and Otabek can clearly hear his roommate moving some steps away from his bed. 

"I know you probably can't stand me..." JJ sounds so small and vulnerable now.

_No please, don’t make a drama out of this..._

"We still don't know each other so well, so…why don't you try and come anyway? Leo will be there and maybe also his roommate with some other guys from the rink. We’ll just go downtown and enjoy some company-"

"COMPANY THAT I CLEARLY DON’T WANT TO GIVE YOU!” Otabek finally snaps, sitting on his bed and letting his mouth runs without restrains. "Can you fucking listen for once in your life? I - DON’T - WANNA - COME! I don’t give a SHIT about you, about Leo, about any fucking one!” Otabek shouts, his face livid “Don't annoy me with this ‘let’s be buddies’ bullshit, Leroy, I’ve got enough!!" and with a quick move he gets up, throwing the duvet at the end of the bed. Swiftly reaching the bathroom, he closes the door with a loud bang that makes JJ jump. Even the Canadian flag that was securely pinned on the wall falls down from the sudden vibration, reaching the pavement with a soft plop.

Jean Jacques’ eyes are wide. Why did Otabek get so upset? He was just trying to be nice with him. So what now? Picking his flag from the floor with the tip of his fingers, JJ feels miserable: maybe this time he has completely lost any chance of getting close to Otabek.

Locked in the bathroom and sitting on the toilet, Otabek feels miserable too. Leroy's small and sad voice, asking him for nothing but a little bit of company, is still ringing inside his head. Damn, how can this guy be so good at riling him up? Yes, he’s too much to bear most of the times but...

_“I don’t give a shit about you all”... Seriously, what's gotten into me?_

Otabek has always had a lot of respect for his rivals and rinkmates, and it’s a blatant lie that he doesn’t care. He surely cares about Leo, but about Leroy…well, let’s say he doesn’t hate him. Otabek’s cheeks were burning while he was screaming at JJ’s pale face, but now he can feel them cooling down a bit, as he comes back to his senses. What he can’t stand is Leroy’s pushy way of getting more closer to him. Yes, JJ’s insistences is a serious test to his patience, and Otabek had always considered himself to be a really patient guy. 

_Leroy is not able to put himself into others people shoes, he’s dense and annoying, but all he wants is a chance which is… Something, right? At least he’s trying._

With a loud sigh, Otabek moves to the sink and washes his face with freezing water. His grandpa said once, what was the quote again? _‘Enemies are only the ones who try to put their flag on your territory’_ or something like that. And Leroy had never tried to steal anything from him or imposing himself in any vicious way. He's just a little childish and obnoxious, and he’s probably still trying to redeem himself after their disastrous first month together.

Maybe Otabek should give him a chance. Surely he should apologize for the harsh words he spitted on JJ. Yeah, maybe that would be cool. 

_I could go with them and just watch. When Leo asked, I was thinking to go and check it so...maybe if I put something on and fix my hair quickly…._

"Uhm.." Otabek opens the door and leans on it, trying to sounds less guilty that he actually feels. "It wasn't my intention saying those harsh wor- What the HELL are you doing?" 

He can’t believe his eyes. JJ has one knee on his bed and the Canadian flag on his hands, stretched towards his side of the wall. 

_No way. NO. FUCKING. WAY._

Jean Jacques still has a sheepish look on his face, but he faintly smiles when he sees Otabek. A spark of hope. Maybe Otabek is asking because he wants to help? 

"The flag fell off, so I'm trying to-"

"Oh, so this is your great idea for my wall right?" Otabek's tone is so low and dangerous that makes JJ shivers. “Aren’t you late for that break dance thing?”

"You don't understand!" Jean Jacques tries to explain. "I wasn't trying to put that on your wall, I just-"

"I don't care. Just get the fuck out of my sight!"

At this point JJ does what his roommate asks. If Otabek had enough, he had enough too. 

"Fine, Mister mood swings! I'm done with you! Think whatever you want!" and after muttering something in French under his breath he leaves his flag on his own bed, picks up his red parka and rushes out of the door, slamming it shut behind his back.

\---

JJ gets in the car and closes the hatch with too much energy. "Sorry" he grumpily mutters while the old Chevrolet trembles. Leo isn't sure if he’s apologizing for the rudeness of his gesture, because he left him waiting in the parking lot for a while, or both. 

“We can go, Mr Altin is not gracing us with his presence today.” he says in a mocking tone, trying to sound like he doesn’t care. 

Leo chuckles. “Eric is not coming too. He’s still sleeping like a corpse. He muttered some curses against Cialdini and yesterday’s killer training when I asked him if he was coming with us, so I just let him be.” 

Jean Jacques bites his lower lip as Leo carries on “I can understand him though, my legs are screaming too! I was tempted to stay in bed, but I really wanted to try this out!” he smiles and puts some hip hop beats on to get in the mood for the show. JJ stays uncharacteristically silent during the whole drive, lost in his thoughts, but when they reach the Music Hall in Downtown Detroit, he seems to lighten up a bit.

But not for long. Both JJ and Leo’s hopes for the day get crushed pretty soon, thanks to the sudden change in the weather that ruins the event and their cheerful plans of joining the break dance crew for the day. 

“I was expecting them to dance indoors! Didn’t they checked the weather forecast? Jeez…” Leo complains without leaving his watchful eye from the road while he drives in the pouring rain. When JJ doesn’t reply he glances in his direction. 

“You sure you’re alright JJ?” 

“Ah?” Jean Jacques seems to come back to reality as he hears his name called out. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“It’s not so JJ Style of you to be so silent, dude” Leo snickers before adding “Let’s drown our sorrow in coffee and sweets!” as he turns onto one small street, reaching a cafeteria not really far from the Nest. 

Sure, JJ has to be pissed like him for the wasted morning, but Leo guess is that there must be something more. It seems that Jean Jacques doesn't want to get back too soon at the dormitory, and maybe Leo knows who's the reason for that. 

"So Otabek didn't want to come this time." Leo says casually, while trying to find the best angle to catch the coffee cup and the donut in the shot he wants to post on his Instagram. Judging from the bitter expression that JJ puts up after hearing his roommate's name, his guess is right. 

"Yep. Not like I care, I'm done with him." Jean Jacques tries again to sound unaffected, but Leo isn't buying it. 

"What do you mean, like you two got into a fight?"

"He's an odd one!" JJ finally blurts out, putting down the croissant that he had just picked up. "I haven't done anything and he shouted so rudely at me! How dare he?"

"Woah, slow down!" Leo chuckles while checking JJ's furious gaze in disbelief. "You're telling me that our stoic and collected Otabek can actually get mad?"

"Very mad actually.” snorts JJ. 

"And you were the one who made it happen." Leo is trying his hardest to repress a laugh.

“Yeah, just for asking him nicely to come with us, eh?" Jean Jacques replies, putting down his croissant, suddenly feeling his stomach crumple. Leo's wary expression isn't a good sign.

“He’s been a bit of a loner since our first week of training, when you were still not here.” Leo remarks, taking a sip of his coffee. “You know he’s got that aura, like he’s going to pierce your soul with his eyes, if he catches you staring at him for too long?” he grins jokingly.

JJ nods eagerly. “Yes, exactly!” beating one hand on the table. 

“He seems so threatening but he’s really not?” laughs Leo. “He’s not a social animal, that’s for sure, but even if he was by himself at first, I feel like maybe I got to pierce his ‘leave me alone’ shield somehow.” he adds biting his donut, fondly remembering the first chat they got about music.

Jean Jacques stares at his friend with wide eyes and open mouth, a silent “HOW?” screaming from his features, but he can’t bring himself to ask the question, his pride in the way. When Leo raises his gaze on him again, after he absent-mindedly checked his IG notifications, JJ quickly turns his head towards the window, pretending to have been distracted by some kids screaming joyfully outside, as a family run towards the entrance of the cafeteria, trying not to get soaked by the rain. 

“Anyway one day, when I was at the self-service area with few other guys” Leo reprises, “Otabek approached us. He picked a hot cocoa, complaining about how watery it was, and we started to talk with him. And it felt actually natural? Like we were worried about him for nothing?” Leo smiles licking a bit of sugar from his lips. “So yeah, I’m not saying after that he got super social, but he seems a bit more friendly with us now.” 

“Mh” it is all JJ has to reply, sipping is coffee. 

Leo isn’t a fool. He knows JJ pretty well and he can sense his misery. “With you,” he sighs “Well, it's been over a month, and after training and school, you guys are basically living together so…I don't really know what to say."

A long, uncomfortable silence settles between them, as the rain's white noise outside and the chit-chatting of the other customers seated at their tables seems to amplify. JJ looks down at his untouched croissant, like he doesn’t even sees it. He’s recollecting Leo's words and suddenly, something clicks in his mind.

"Otabek surely likes chocolate, eh?"

"What?" Leo looks puzzled. "He seems more like a coffee guy to me."

"When we get back to the room after dinner," JJ explains "before he puts his headphones on, lying on his bed and ignoring me completely for the rest of the evening, sometimes Otabek picks this chocolate bar wrapped into some fancy turquoise and gold paper from his bedside’s drawers and he gets a little square out of it. I know when he does it, because the room smells incredible everytime he unwraps it, it must be high-quality stuff..."

"Wow- I would have never guessed that! He knows how much I like sweets and he never shared that cool shit with me!" Leo adds some other silly complains, stopping when he notices JJ finishing his coffee in a long sip and quickly getting up from the table. "Do you have to go to the bathroom? I’m done so, if you're alright…” Leo cautiously asks “Can we go back to the Nest?" 

JJ just nods in reply and moves towards the toilets. Before turning the corner, he gets close to the display on the counter, filled with all sorts of fresh baked goods. Finding what he’s looking for, he flashes a smile to the lady behind the desk "Sorry Madame, can I order something to go?"

\---

Otabek flops down on the bed, hiding his head underneath the pillow. _I don’t care_ he repeats in his mind, making it sound like a mantra as he tries to go back to sleep.

_I don’t care, I don’t care, I - don’t - fucking - care._

But of course it doesn’t work. Of course all his drowsiness is gone, replaced by an uncomfortable bitter feeling in his guts. So he gives up with a groan, rising from the bed and moving back to the bathroom. After a quick shower to clear his mind, Otabek combs his hair and put on a cushy hoodie, collecting the parcel he stuffed underneath his bed a while ago.

He still remembers that moment of weakness, when he had asked his mum - in a tone that he desperately hoped sounded casual - if she wouldn’t mind sending over some of his grandpa’s landscapes and some chocolate. It happened during a Skype call, like two weeks after Leroy declared their shared room his kingdom and Otabek was trying his best not to kill the King in his sleep.

The precious box from Almaty is now almost empty. The chocolate is gone, only the wrappers remain, and the truffles for Mrs Ortiz that he still has to deliver. His mother entrusted Otabek to give the present to the receptionist and also to share the chocolate with his roommate, but Otabek had been so pissed off that he hadn't given anything to anyone yet. Especially not to Leroy. With a snort he tears off the fancy cover of his favourite chocolate’s package and he sticks it to the wall.

There is also a yellowish A3 envelope in the box, filled with big photographs. Otabek had asked his mum some of his grandpa’s best shots and some pics from the days he spent with him in the Big Almaty Lake area. But of course his mother had added some non requested family photos, the most sappiest and embarrassing ones to be precise.

Raindrops starts hitting the window rhythmically as Otabek is sitting on his bed, setting the last photograph in the remaining space on the wall, slowly tracing the edges with his fingers, making sure it sticks perfectly flat on the surface. With a smirk he judges the effect of the canvas he has created: The blue allure of the Big Almaty Lake at night meets the glowing orange of the Charyn Canyon at sunset. The wild nature of the Altyn Emel National Park, with his Singing Dunes in stark contrast with the snowy mountains that stand on guard behind them, are placed next to the blueish green of Lake Issyk. 

"Менің Қазақстаным." Otabek whispers to himself, contemplating the renewed surface with fondness and pride.

He gives one last glance to the family pictures before carefully putting them back in the envelope. No chance he’s going to put them up. Otabek knows that homesickness could hit him anytime and, since he doesn't have any sort of privacy in the room except for the bathroom, he’s sure his overly curious roommate would definitely question him who's this and who’s that if he ever decided to put them on the wall...

_Nah, he would not. Didn't Leroy said that he's done with me? Maybe he wasn't lying this time._

He glances at the Canadian flag sadly abandoned on JJ's bed, white tacks still attached at the corners, and he feels a sigh escaping from his mouth. Why doesn't he feel relieved?

_Maybe he wasn't lying..._

In that precise moment, the room's door burst open. So it seems that Leroy is already back from whatever it was the place he had gone with Leo? Maybe the sudden pouring rain made them change their plans. 

"Damn!" JJ pants moving towards his wardrobe to hang his slightly wet parka before sitting on his bed and plopping a plastic bag on it. "Just in time before the universal flood started!"

Otabek isn't sure if Leroy is talking with him or not, so he shrugs. Well, JJ is clearly looking at him but, who knows, it wouldn’t be the first time the guy speaks with himself. As Otabek is thinking this, JJ carries on, and there's no mistake that now he's talking with him. 

"They couldn't dance! In the moment they showed up it started raining so hard that-"

"Didn't you said you were done with me?"

The tone of Otabek’s question is far from threatening, but leaves JJ speechless nonetheless. His splendidly crafted plan was to flaunt the perfect making-up speech to Otabek when the right time would have come, and to impress him with a cake. He surely wasn’t expecting his roommate to bring up the subject at the very moment he returned in the room. 

"I- Did I said that?" JJ blurts out, scratching the short hair on his nape, looking quite embarrassed. "About that, um-"

"I'm sorry."

JJ blinks at him twice. "...I'm sorry?" 

"Yeah, I'm sorry, that's what I said." Otabek repeats, and his words seems sincere. 

Jean Jacques can feel his cheeks warming up. He was not expecting so much bluntness. He was not expecting an apology from his roommate, like at all. And now Otabek is looking at him, seeming undecided if adding something more or not. 

“Uhm, Leroy..” JJ holds his breath in anticipation. “You’re sitting on your flag.”

“WHAT?!” JJ jumps up. “Oh merde..” he whispers while frantically smoothing the creases with his hands. When the emblem seems flat again, Jean Jacques tries to stick it back on the wall. Otabek doesn’t offer his help, but uses the distraction to swiftly stuff his box back underneath his bed.

“Now I feel at peace again!” JJ sighs in relief, looking at his restored flags. He then remembers the cake and carefully takes out a brown package from the plastic bag, moving closer to Otabek who’s now giving him his back.

“I stopped with Leo in a cafeteria nearby and.. Uhm, you like chocolate, eh?” Jean Jacques doesn’t wait for a reply and puts the slices of cake underneath Otabek’s nose, sitting near him on Otabek’s bed. “You can have a piece, it’s really good.” he adds, taking one and stuffing it into his mouth unceremoniously.

Otabek looks at the cake. It’s inviting and, now that he thinks about it, he haven’t had breakfast yet. So he takes the other piece and taste it. It’s pretty good he must say. “Thanks.” he mutters, before taking a second bite.

“Anytime bro” beams JJ, licking some chocolate crumbs from his fingers. “So you decorated your side!” he adds, moving his gaze to the wall. Letting his eyes wanders on the beautiful landscapes, at first Jean Jacques thought they were just posters but, getting a closer look, he realises they’re actual photos, printed in high quality matte paper. “Who took these pics?” 

“My grandpa.” 

JJ gives him a skeptic look, then he bites the inside of his cheek, lowering his eyes. “You’re making fun of me, eh?” a crooked smile. That was a stupid question, indeed. “You just bought them from the National Geographic’s website or whatever, didn’t you?” 

“I’m serious” Otabek looks at him, no sign of mockery in his gaze. “My grandfather actually took them. But you’re right, in a way. This one, and I guess this one too are in the National Geographic’s archive.” Otabek humbly but proudly points at the one of the Big Almaty Lake at night and at the one of the Singing Dunes. 

“No way!” JJ widen his eyes. “Is this place even real, this sky seems photoshopped!”

“It’s real. I’ve been there.” Otabek says, looking at the small guy sat on the lake’ shore, giving his back to the camera. He’s that little guy, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to tell JJ. 

“There are beautiful lakes in Canada too, you know? This one looks a lil bit like Moraine Lake.” Jean Jacques nods, looking at Lake Issyk. “So your grandpa is a photographer?”

“Photography has always been one of his hobbies.” Otabek answers, remembering his grandpa’ studio, full of old cameras, wires stretched from wall to wall covered in negatives, developing tanks and chemicals all around. He fondly remembers that almost magical moment when he tried for the first time to take out a film from it’s reel, following his grandpa’s instructions, shrouded in pitch black darkness inside the storage closed converted dark room. “He spent most of his life in the chocolate business, but when he left it to my father and my uncle, he finally had the time to pursue his other passions.” 

“What other passions?”

“Uh, like photography.” Otabek says scratching his undercut. “And equitation. He had a horse years ago. Sometimes he likes to write poetries. And playing the dombra… Which is a musical string instrument. A kind of lute, that’s what it is.”

Wow, it’s the first time JJ hears Otabek sharing so much, and especially sharing anything about his family with someone here in Detroit. The fact that he’s doing this with him seriously catches Jean Jacques out of the blue. “Cool! He does so many things…”

“It’s nothing special…”

JJ is astonished. “And so your parents runs a chocolatiers’ business?” 

Otabek just nods, instantly regretting spilling out so much about his life and expecting at any moment a stupid joke from JJ on the line of ‘OMG! You’re Willy Wonka’ son!’ Surprisingly, JJ stays silent and moves his gaze on the turquoise and golden carton paper fixed on the lower corner the wall. He recognizes that wrap and the faint smell of chocolate that’s coming from it. Running his index finger on the embossed cyrillic letters, he whispers to himself “So you’re producing the good shit..” remembering the chat he had with Leo.

“What?” 

“Ahaha! Nothing, nothing!” he giggles, flashing his ice blue gaze on Otabek. “If my parents were chocolatiers, JJ would be so fat! I don’t even want to think about it.” he swiftly shakes his head as to dismiss the thought. “I like all this gold on the package, tho. It’s says royal chocolate to me. Suitable for a king!” he grins and moves his hands in front of his chest to form two little Js. 

Otabek looks at him with his trademark blank stare, with a bit of ‘I’m already done with you’ in it, so Jean Jacques adds “I mean, I’m sure it tastes great!” 

Otabek runs one hand over his hair. “I finished it already.”

“Oh.” JJ lowers his eyes. “It’s okay. Maybe next time?” he smiles, blinking his big puppy eyes expectantly. 

“Okay.”

“Really??” 

“When I’ll get another batch from home, maybe you can try it.” _If you behave_ is heavily subtexted in his tone. 

JJ gives him his best smile before noticing that Otabek has collected another picture from his side. “What is this?” he asks, getting closer to his roommate, tilting his head for reading the caption printed on the upper frame. “Yakov Feltman’s Summer Camp… Isn’t Victor Nikiforov’s coach? You trained with him? Sweet!” 

Jean Jacques seems visibly impressed by the new piece of information he’s getting regarding Otabek. “How is Feltsman? I heard he’s super strict. Like, worse than Cialdini, eh?” but as always Leroy doesn’t even wait for a reply, he’s running solo. “Nah, JJ could never have him as coach, Russian coaches are too squared! I’m sure he would never understand my JJ Style. Well, to be honest even Cialdini isn’t understanding it either. He defines my triple lutz an undignified flutz, when…”

Otabek drop his head backwards, closing his eyes and gaping his mouth. _Here we are again._ He stops listening as JJ carries on with his JJ-Style-babbling-melodrama - _because that was a flutz for real, so shut up_ \- until he feels the commemorative picture of the workshop escaping from his fingers, a squeal and an high pitched 

“NO WAY. This tiny guy over here is YOU?” 

Otabek moves quickly and bluntly snatches back the photo from JJ’s grabby hands, furrowing his brows, eyes on fire. Jean Jacques smiles awkwardly, moving his gaze from the picture to Otabek, to the picture again. “Baby angry eyebrow, versus teenage angry eyebrows!” he exclaims as he burst into a boisterous laugh. 

Otabek isn’t finding it funny at all, and the thing makes JJ only giggling louder. “OMG! Stop it Otabro!”

“No, you stop it!” he warns, embarrassed “And don’t bro me.” _Damn you Leroy._

“Okay, okay I’ll stop.” JJ sighs trying to catch his breath, getting serious again. “By the way, Nikiforov can gloat over his gold medals as much as he wants while I’m stuck in junior. Mr Living Legend doesn't know what’s coming for him!” JJ starts nodding confidently. “What’s gonna happen, you says? I’ll become senior very soon, he better get ready to face young and fresh King JJ!” 

Otabek laughs it up his sleeve. “Sure, we’ll see Leroy. You’re totally forgetting that me and Leo gonna be seniors too very soon.” 

Grasping the picture on his hand, Otabek points his gaze on a pair of sparkling sharp emerald eyes, looking straight to the camera from the front row of a group of young children, posing outside a ballet school in St Petersburg. “Anyway, Nikiforov will be the last of your problems for this season.”

“Say what? Just because you trained with his coach you think you will be a threat for me Otabek, that’s what you’re telling to King JJ?” JJ cockily asks. 

“Yeah” Otabek grins. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Leroy shouldn’t underestimating him, that’s for sure. He has no intentions of staying idle or to be defeated by his roommate. “And you can expect to see the rink as a battlefield filled with soldiers, there’s no space for royalty in such place.” 

Otabek doesn’t add more. Because JJ doesn’t need to know who will make his junior debut this season. JJ doesn’t know who Yuri Plisetsky is yet. For now he’s just another random Russian novice who will move his first steps on the combat zone, but Otabek is sure that - from what he saw - Plisetsky will definitely give an hard time to him and to everyone else in this upcoming junior season.

“We’ll see! I’m ready anytime, I’m born ready.” boasts Leroy “I can’t wait to show the world my unique and inimitable-” he repeats as his mobile starts buzzing in the pocket of his hoodie and the notes of Ravel’s Bolero reverberates in the room.

Otabek recognises the ringtone assigned to JJ’s parents and he has to admit he’s never been so thankful to hear that melody. 

“Buonegiornissimo mama!” Jean Jacques picks up the call and rises from Otabek’s bed, moving some steps to the window. “Ah? ...What do you mean by ‘stop saying that thing?’ Didn’t you said that it means good morning?..No wait what did you make me say to Cialdini??”

Otabek sighs, trying to ignore the obnoxious conversation. He sticks the workshop’s picture on the wall, giving one last glance to that small blond soldier on the front row. Now there is only one thing left to do: putting up his flag. Or better, it would be a really nice thing to do, if only there was a tiny bit of space left on his side of the room. Otabek moves to his chest of drawers and collect the Kazakhstan’s flag, unsure of what to do about it. He unfolds it, spreading the bright turquoise fabrique on the bed. 

“Is this your flag?” JJ’s nose suddenly appears over Otabek’ shoulder “What a bright color it is, eh? No I’m not talking with you mom!” JJ utters, his phone still placed firmly on his left ear “Listen, mama, listen! Talk with you later ok? I love you, bye!” And with that, JJ suddenly hangs up. “I love her very much but she can be very annoying sometimes, bombing me with all these questions about what I’m doing and with whom…”

Otabek gives him a blank stare. _Now I know where you get it from, dude._

“Speaking about something else” JJ says rolling his eyes, putting his phone back into his hoodie’s pocket. “Come on, where do you wanna hang it up? I’ll help!” he beams, pointing at the flag. 

Otabek side glances him. “Like where? There’s no space left.” he spits bitterly.

JJ's confident smile dies on his lips after his scrutinizing look doesn't spot any blank space indeed. The room is filled with any kind of JJ related decoration, making him suddenly aware of how small is the portion that Otabek’s pictures and his few belongings covers.

"Uhm, over here?” Jean Jacques points a poster of the Montreal Canadiens ice hockey team that is clearly on Otabek’s side of the wall. “I can move this poster that I- uh, that my parents put there. I can put it on my wardrobe’s door."

Otabek can’t believe his ears. “Are you serious?” he asks sarcastically. _Because there’s no space for second thoughts, dude. I don’t want to hear you whine about it tomorrow._

“I actually didn’t even know why they put it there…” Jean Jacques replies scratching his neck, hearing a loud snort from his roommate. “I mean! JJ packed so many stuff that he doesn’t even realize it was here!” he adds as Otabek rises from his bed and starts removing the poster before his roommate could change his mind - JJ behind him, pleading to be very careful with the edges - replacing it with the Kazakhstan’s flag in no time. Judging the effect on the wall, Otabek can’t help but feel proud.

“Definitely better than the chocolate wrapping, eh?” JJ teases, making Otabek rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, It’s past lunch time. I’m going downstairs for getting some food.”

“Without even say thank you to JJ for his kind heart and his precious help? You’re so mean, Otabro!” JJ theatrically pouts, as Otabek rises one eyebrow. 

“First, don’t bro me. Second, that was my space and you just gave me back what was rightfully mine, so don’t get ahead of yourself Leroy.” and without gracing him of a second look, Otabek collects his earphones, puts them on his head and get out of the room. 

\---

Mist pours out of the falls as the water rushes over the rocks and splashes into the river below. The boat bobs around in the haze, struggling to battle upstream against that force, slowly making its way on the Niagara River. JJ screams gleefully, feeling exhilarated and engulfed in the magnificence of the scenario unfolding in front of him, the power of the falls blasting him in the face with wind and water. He’s laughing and smiling to his parents while a giant cloud rises a couple hundred feet above the highest point of the falls into the sky. It all is as riveting as it is majestic and he truly feels like a king on top of the world, even while donning an ugly plastic blue rain poncho. His shoes are totally soaked but he couldn’t care less at the moment, he’s full of adrenaline as if he’s riding a roller coaster! Jean Jacques can’t help but grin when he spots a rainbow at the bottom of the falls, waving and bubbling in the mist. He turns back towards his parents pointing at it, but they’re nowhere to be seen. 

_Where is everybody? Where is mama and papa?_ Just one second ago the Maid of the Mist was packed full of poncho-clad people, and now he’s alone. 

He looks around trying to spot them through the drenching spray of the mist, screaming their names against the deafening roar of the falling water. There’s no way they left him behind. It simply cannot be. He feels his heart pumping in his chest, anxiety building up as he moves blindly on deck. Finally the mist starts to thin out, showing a dark figure on the opposite side of the platform, cladded in black workout clothes, giving him his back and leaning on the balustrade, the thundering unleashed power of water in front of his eyes.  
JJ tries to get his attention but all his shouting is to no avail; the guy can’t hear him. Few rainbows pop up randomly from several different locations, moving and changing with the sunlight. Half and full arches, some sitting at the bottom of the falls, some bursting from Niagara River, others stretching across the falls like bridges, suddenly surrounding the boy with an undercut in front of him. JJ keeps yelling Otabek’s name over and over as he moves closer. He can’t hear his own voice but he can perceive that the guy is speaking in a mysterious language...his mother tongue? Jean can’t grasp a single word, nevertheless Otabek’s voice is coming in waves, a soothing whisper to his mind. When he’s almost close to touch him, an horde of pocho-clad people pours back in, dragging him away. Muddy guitar riffs, scratchy vocals, gruff screams. A band is playing on deck, blasting their sound over the pounding water. JJ feels a stinging pain in his lower belly, but he ignores it when he recognize who’s playing and he starts singing the lyrics, swinging with the crowd. 

♫ _Oh young cardinals_  
_Nesting in the trees_  
_Oh hear our songs_  
_Reign your innocence on me_ ♫ 

Excitement building up, grooving as the gig keeps going. JJ is feeling alive and he’s grinning like a fool, pushing through the crowd, reaching the front row. The singer nods at him in a silent invitation to join him on stage, but the roaring of the waterfalls covers every sound again and he suddenly can’t ignore anymore the pain in his...bladder?

.  
.  
.

When JJ opens his eyes, he’s lying in his bed, _Young Cardinals_ still ringing in his ears. He blinks in confusion, then he chuckles in the darkness. 

“Niagara falls eh? I need to pee.”

His right hand pokes out of the duvet, searching for the mobile phone on the nightstand. Once he finds it, the blueish light of the screen blinds him for a moment, too bright in the pitch black room. Jean Jacques squints his eyes and frown; It’s almost one in the morning. A yawn escapes from his mouth and he sits up on his bed, scratching his undercut. When he lazily turns his head towards the bed next to his, he’s baffled to find it empty.

A dim shaft of light is piercing from under the bathroom’s door. “So Niagara falls were pouring into Otabek’s dreams too...” sneers JJ but - now that he’s noticing - a muffled voice is coming from there. Not English, nor French, that’s for sure. It’s the same language he was hearing in his dream. Intrigued, he puts his slippers on, a zipped hoodie and moves towards the washroom. 

_Ah, I get it. He's at the phone with someone._

He stops in front of the door, bubbling over with curiosity, trying to catch something, anything from the peculiar speech he’s listening. 

Since the day they started living together, JJ barely got to hear Otabek speaking in his mother tongue. Not that Otabek had any reason to use it, being the only Kazakh in the dormitory, but still JJ thought he would have had the chance to hear it when he would call his family or friends, but that never happened. Otabek always leaves the room when he has to Skype, or he does it when JJ isn’t in the room. Jean Jacques finds it odd since - on the contrary - he’s always very keen on having Otabek joining his video calls with his parents and he really doesn’t get why his roommate is always shying away. Maybe he’s intimidated by them? Bur even if his parents are ice dance’s living legends Otabek met them already, there’s no reason to be so bashful. 

JJ keeps on eavesdrop, thinking that perhaps he could understand something, but he gets absolutely nothing except some exclamations in English like “OMG” or “WOW” and maybe a name. _Azeka?_ It seems like Otabek is repeating that name in a teasing way, and with a certain tone in his voice that suggest there’s a girl on the other side. 

_Oh._

And wait, now is he laughing? A genuine, crystal clear laugh. Bemused, JJ realizes that it’s the first time he’s hearing his roommate so relaxed and at ease. 

_So this is how Otabek sounds when he’s with someone he loves and cares about . . ._

But he can’t linger too much on his thoughts as something else happens and his heart starts pounding faster...Otabek is singing! Yes, it’s definitely the ‘happy birthday’ song, the tune is unmistakable, but it’s the Kazakh version of it. Otabek’s voice has a deep velvet tone and hearing his chant is quite strange and mesmerizing. It ends too soon though, and he starts speaking faster like he’s trying to get back to his casual tone, probably to hide his embarrassment. 

JJ steps back, realising his cheeks are burning. He’s prying on something deeply private and he knows he shouldn’t have indulged in his nosiness. He had all the intentions to knock on the door and ask his roommate to speed up, but now...now he feels bad about it. He doesn’t want to interrupt this moment. Yet, he really needs to pee, his bladder is begging for relief.  
The only available option is the communal toilets of the Nest, on the ground floor. He’s not fond of facing the chilly corridors of the dormitory at this hour, but he has no other choice. With a sigh, Jean Jacques closes the zip of his hoodie to the top and leaves the room quietly. 

The Nest is really a cozy place during the day but at night, when everything is quiet and only the emergency lights are on, it easily becomes a gloomy place. Every little noise is amplified and in the faint light, JJ’s mind can’t help but come up with the worst horror/paranormal movies scenarios at every creak of the wooden floor under his feet. It makes him feel uneasy to walk alone through the empty place, so he bury his face inside the collar of his hoodie and he squints his eyes, annoyed. 

_Tsk. I should have knocked on the door after all but no, JJ had to act cool and leave Mr. Charming to take his sweet time with a girl..._

He swiftly paces the aisle, taking the stairs and reaching the ground floor. Trying to distract himself from the dreadful thoughts his mind is mercilessly conceiving, he finds himself wanders out of the blue on the image a soft Otabek laughing and singing. JJ pouts while he moves past the self service area. 

_Why does it bothers me so much that Otabek is never so at ease when he’s with me?_

One of the vending machines’ fan switches on with a loud noise, making him jump and curse under his breath. Spooked, Jean Jacques looks around then groans dramatically, starting humming the chorus of Young Cardinals just to keep his mind focused on something easy. He finally reaches the toilets and oh, brilliant, one of the neon lights is flickering. Just when he was thinking that the place couldn’t become even more creepy.  
With a snorts he gets inside one of the stalls, resolute to get back in his room quickly. He’s in the middle of his business when an eerie sound sends chills down his spine: Muffled sighs and moans are coming from one of the toilet cubicles near his...

_Oh putain de merde!_

\---

“Жарайд, бар, туған күніңді тойла"

Otabek smiles fondly while pressing the red button to end the conversation, melancholy filling his heart. Another birthday, and he’s not at home to celebrate. His sister Azhar is turning eight today. She’s a little woman now, and of course she’s not happy if he teases her with childish nicknames. But he can’t help it, to him and Daniar she will always be their little Azeka, no matter what.

_Some things never changes. Well, now let's go to catching up some sleep..._

Taking a deep breath, he switches the bathroom’s light off and uses his phone’ screen to illuminate the way, careful not to wake his roommate. There is no one to wake up though, JJ’s duvet is crumpled and discarded on his bed, but he’s not there. Otabek switches the abat-jour on, furrowing his eyebrows. Perhaps Leroy had to use the communal bathrooms because of him. Well, JJ always does whatever he likes and Otabek has to be at his leisure so, if for once it’s the other way around, serves him right. 

He’s in the middle of his thoughts when the bedroom’s door burst open. Fast stomping strides reverberates in the quiet room and all at once two long arms wraps him in a tight embrace. 

_What the...?_

Otabek is caught off guard, feeling someone pressed on his back, hanging on for dear life. Before he could start pulling off, a familiar and quite sweet patchouli and vanilla scent enwraps him and freezes him in place. He can’t help but draw in deeply, holding his breath and staying still. JJ’s forehead wedges on the hollow of his neck as he’s gasping for air, hot shaky breaths escaping from his mouth, like when he’s totally drained from practice. 

In the closeness of the clasp and the utter silence of the room, Otabek senses JJ’s fast heartbeats reverberating inside him, the warmth of his body pressed close as a second skin. 

_What the hell is this all about?_

JJ is clearly in distress. Is he having one of his panic attacks? Why is he clinging on Otabek? Why is he so desperate? Why is he not letting go? His brain is firing questions, but his body doesn’t really care about the answers.  
Biting his lower lip, Otabek lowers his head, allowing Jean Jacques to rub his sweaty forehead on his exposed neck, feeling him shivering and sniffling, not sure if JJ’s pulse is slowing down or if it’s his own that is racing up.  
After what could have been minutes, hours or just mere seconds, Otabek cannot tell, their heartbeats and breaths sync. JJ’s tense body is finally relaxing, but he’s still not untangling from the embrace. Otabek wonders if his voice would casts a spell or if it would break it. He’s not even sure why this thought is crossing his mind. Nevertheless he whispers

“. . . Jean?” 

JJ gasps and tenses again, realizing all at once where he is and what he’s doing as he abruptly let go of Otabek with a loud and clear “WOAH!” eyes wide opened.

Otabek blinks and scratches his arms, as if Leroy’s grasp was causing him itchiness. He squints his eyes, deeply annoyed. _What the fuck? What was he thinking- no wait, was he thinking at all?_ He turns to face his roommate, crossing his arms, tilting his head and piercing JJ with his seething gaze, waiting for an answer to his silent question. 

_Who gave you the fucking right to hug me like that, moron?_

Jean Jacques snickers and moves some step back, passing a tremble hand on his neck. “Putain de merde, quelle frayeur…" he mutters to himself, nervously clearing his throat and pacing the room. He owes his roommate an explanation.

“Y-you know, I think I finally get what all this ‘Sharing is Caring’ thing is about.” JJ feels edgy, holding Otabek’s gaze. “Yeah, I think this is why. It has to be it. This is it.”

Otabek is losing track. Is he talking about what just happened between them or..? 

“This is what, Leroy?”

“The ghost!!”

An awkward silence falls between them. Maybe Otabek misheard. “No, I’m not following you.”

“Okay, okay. Listen. What if someone killed himself in this dormitory? If something this dreadful happened, it would be reason enough for the Ortiz to stress us about caring for our roommate. It would make sense, eh?” 

_Sure! Complete sense! The Nest’s ghost! ...What the FUCK Leroy?_

Maybe JJ fell and beat his head hard while he was out of the room, or it happened when he was born, who knows. Otabek isn’t speaking his thoughts out loud, but he guesses his face is showing his doubts.

“I know it’s hard to believe because you weren’t with me earlier, but” JJ suddenly gets more close and add in a whisper “there’s a ghost in this dormitory.” 

“Stop taking the piss Leroy!”

If JJ is an idiot, Otabek isn’t better since he is still giving him attention. He should be gone to bed already, why is he losing his precious sleep time speaking with this bloody asshole who clearly wants to make fun of him? 

“I’m not lying Otabek! Why would I?” JJ seems deeply offended, his icy blue eyes sparkling in the caramel dim light of the abat-jour. “I heard it. In the washroom downstairs...” 

Otabek snorts, passing an hand on his eyes. _Don’t use the puppy eyes trick dude, it’s not fair._

“So. What did you hear?” This will not get them anywhere, but he’s sure that if he ignores him, JJ will keep going on with this ghost bullshit anyway.

“At first, moaning. Deep breathing, maybe crying…weird stuff.” JJ sits on his bed and starts fiddling with the hook of his zip. He’s not sure it was really a ghost. But honest to God, that was his first thought. 

“Moaning you said?” JJ nods. “And deep breaths. In the bathroom. At one in the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah.”

_You gotta be kidding me!_ Otabek can feel his cheeks getting warm. “Leroy, are you sure it wasn’t someone doing...ya know…”

“Playing the ghost?”

“No.”

_Playing the flute solo._

“You know what? Nevermind. I’m going to sleep.” Otabek moves to his bed, he has heard enough bullshit for the night.

“If you don’t believe me you can go and check yourself!” 

“I’m not going to check if someone is doing..” 

“We can go together and film it!” JJ’s eyes are eager now “I saw a documentary once about a haunted old house, I know how we can do it!” 

“Leroy, please. Just shut up go to sleep, okay?” this has been dragged for too long. 

“Why are you upset now? Besides it’s all your fault!” Jean Jacques crosses his long legs on his bed and pouts. “You sneaked in the washroom to speak with your girlfriend and I had to go downstairs to pee!”

“My _what_?” Otabek widens his eyes in disbelief. 

“I was not eavesdropping, you were speaking very loudly.” fibs JJ, his cheeks red, turning his head to the window over the bed. 

“I was speaking with my little sister.” sighs Otabek. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” he adds, not sure why he feels the need of pointing this out to his annoying roommate.

“ _Oh._ ” whispers JJ. “I see. So...are we going to check?” he grins, confidence somehow restored.

“It’s NOT a ghost.” _Dude please realize that._

“Well let’s prove it!” beams Jean Jacques, lowering his head and looking up to Otabek, who’s still standing in front of his bed, teasing him with a devilish smile “Or are you scared?”

“I’m not. I’m just tired and our alarm will go off in four hours.” 

“Uuh, Otabek is a chicken, who would have thought? You always act so badass..” mocks JJ but his smirk dies on his lips as soon as Otabek grabs him by the front of his hoodie and pull his face closer.

“Oh, yeah?” he hisses, “It wasn’t me the chicken who run scared in his room and..” he trails off, releasing his grasp with a snort, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. 

_So Leroy thinks a guy who’s jerking off in the bathroom is a ghost? Good. If he’s so committed to get busted, let’s smack the real truth in his face. Because he really deserves it at this point._

“Okay. Let’s go and check it.” states Otabek, turning to burn his roommate with his gaze. 

JJ stares at him without saying anything for a moment. Then he jumps off the bed. “Okay, let’s do it!”

\---

They walk in silence to the communal bathrooms, both resolute not to say a word about the stupid thing they’re doing, leaving the sound of their steps on the wooden floor to fill the space between them. When they reach the washroom the neon light is still flickering, buzzing a bit. One of the taps is loose and waterdrops fall rhythmically on the sink. They wait but nothing. No ghostly noises, of course. Otabek is on the verge of saying “I told you so” but he stops when something indeed happens. A muffled sniff comes from one of the stalls. JJ frantically elbows Otabek on the ribs, but the snuffle is followed by dragged paper and a nose blowing. 

JJ stops poking. Otabek smirks and cross his arms. 

_Damn, I should have made a bet with Leroy, I knew this would have been an easy win._

The cubicle door slowly opens, revealing a redhead chap, probably around their ages. His eyes are puffy from crying and once he realizes two guys are staring at him he gasps, panicking a bit and starts blabber “Pardon moi…I mean sorry! Merde, I was just.” 

“Hey, it’s alright!” JJ moves closer with a big, reassuring smile “Parlez-vous français?” he asks politely, gently patting the boy on the shoulder. The ginger dude beams, vigorously nodding and all at once they start chatting in French like old friends meeting after decades of not seeing each other, Otabek long forgotten. 

_Yeah, take your time guys, like I’m not even here. Or can I bring you tea? Coffee?_ Otabek remarks snidely in his thoughts as he keep watching them with a ‘I’m so done’ expression on his face. With a sigh he fishes out his cell phone from his hoodie pocket. It’s past two am, they really should be going back to sleep, all of them. JJ laughs, and one doesn’t really need to speak French to understand that now he’s boasting about himself. But, for a change, the redhead seems to find his jabbering interesting, and it’s even more astonishing to see JJ actually listening to what the other dude is saying. 

_So he can be something other than a total asshole if he wants . . ._

Maybe speaking French is the key. Whatever it is, Jean Jacques was able to comfort a total stranger just by speaking with him, and this is quite something, coming from an self absorbed moron like JJ. 

Ginger boy is now yawning, thanking Leroy with a lot of “Merci” moving quickly to the bathroom exit, smiling and waving to Otabek as he leaves the premises.

“Aw, what a nice guy!” praises JJ “He’s doing pair skating you know? Yesterday he got scolded really hard by Cialdini and his partner threatened him she would look for someone else, can you imagine? He’s French and he is missing home so badly. He didn’t want his roommate to catch him crying...” 

Otabek doesn’t really cares about what Jule or Julien - apparently that’s the name of the redhead boy - problems are, he just want to get back to his bed. But of course now JJ has to report whatever they shared earlier and he keeps on gossiping until they reach room 27.

They’re under their respective duvets, lights off, finally ready to sleep, but Jean Jacques feels the need to break the silence once again.

“So no ghost, eh? Mh, kinda predictable… Well, a great case solved by detectives Leroy and Altin!” he chuckles in the darkness and Otabek has to repress the urge to jump out and choke him with his pillow. He opt for a sigh and mutters a “Көтіңді қыс” under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Good night.” 

“Ko..kotiki ky?” JJ tries to repeat “It means good night?” 

_You wish_ , Otabek pouts. There is a small crack on the intersection of the heavy curtains on the windows over their beds and the fleeble street lamps’ light finds its way inside. It’s not much, but it’s enough for Otabek to outline the features of Jean Jacques’ face. He’s smiling in his direction, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, ruffled hair, bright blue eyes watching him intently, waiting for an answer. Otabek turns his gaze away, pointing it on the ceiling.

“Қайырлы түн.” Otabek says in an hushed tone. “қайырлы түн means good night.” and without waiting for a reply he turns his back to his roommate “Now please shut up and sleep.” 

“Quayır tun Otabro!” 

_Yeah, whatever moron._

At last the room is quiet. Not even the slightest noise to bother Otabek, just their steady breaths, but even so he’s still lying awake in his bed. _Tch, why I can’t sleep now?_  
Turning onto his side, he glances at his roommate again; Leroy is resting on his back, one arm behind his head, the other draped across his stomach, fast asleep. He was babbling in panic like an idiot just few minutes ago, Otabek thinks, slightly pissed off by JJ’s ability of catching such a deep sleep in no time, like if nothing happened.  
_A ghost_ , Otabek smirks. _I wonder what you would have done if we would have found someone jerking off for real, instead of a little homesick sobbing guy. Have you even masturbate once in your life, Leroy?_

Seriously, had JJ ever done such a thing? 

Otabek can't picture someone as childish as Leroy doing something like watching porn, or using his own imagination for the purpose, closing himself in the bathroom, yanking his pants off and doing it quickly, not even just as stress relief. 

_Well, that's how I used to do it when I was alone in the room. But now that he's here I need to take advantage of the after-practice shower, so any moan or sound is muffled from the water. But how about him?_

Jean Jacques looks strangely mature when his brain is switched off and his usual cocky look is lifted from his face. Now he almost seems the kind of person who would stand in front of a mirror while doing it. Like, he would definitely enjoy watching himself with that sense of perverted satisfaction as he touches the perfect toned body mother nature has given him. Yep, that kind of kinky stuff would definitely suits someone so confident, arrogant and.. Well, objectively good looking like him.

_Can’t blame your taste here, dude. With that kind of body and face, I would probably definitely consider to..._

Otabek blinks in the dark. _To what? To jerk off while looking at myself or...him?_

Suddenly, the imagine of Jean Jacques panting in front of the bathroom’s mirror, like he was doing earlier against his neck, makes him feel a too familiar feeling into his groin.

_What the fuck?_ Otabek quickly turns to face the wall, eyes wide shut. _You just need some sleep Altin. That thing NEVER happened, okay? IT-NEVER-HAPPENED. I want nothing to do with that moron, ever! For fuck sake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> Котакбас / kotakbak (Kazakh) = asshole
> 
> Менің Қазақстаным. (Kazakh) = my Kazakhstan
> 
> Жарайд, бар, туған күніңді тойла (Kazakh) = Ok now, go, enjoy your birthday
> 
> Putain de merde, quelle frayeur…(French Canadian) = Fucking shit, what a fright
> 
> Көтіңді қыс / Kotindy kys (Kazakh) = Squeeze you ass. When someone being an obnoxious wannabe, tell them they should squeeze their ass and check themselves.
> 
> \---
> 
> The title of the chapter comes from the lyrics of "Young Cardinals" by Alexisonfire.
> 
> We suggest you to watch [the video of "Young Cardinals"](https://youtu.be/5JNO5nJ0L0U) to get inside JJ's dream. Trust us. 
> 
>  
> 
> [The chocolate's wrap that inspired us to create the Altin Confectionary](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-my3EQtfk5Co/VPrlgof5ZuI/AAAAAAAAACo/oD3A_CUm94k/s1600/20150307_113224.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
> [Chapter art - strange things happens in the night time hours](https://ainitsuite-agape.tumblr.com/post/172247429154/strange-things-happens-in-the-night-time)


	4. Do you wish to feel complete?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: **If you hover over any phrases that are not in English, the translation will be the hover text.**
> 
> If you're reading from mobile, you can find the translations in the end notes.

Contrary to the rain and storms that the forecast predicted, May in Detroit started with an entire week of nice sunny weather, a mild climate more than welcomed among the guests of the Nest. In no time, a certain spot where the cafeteria's benches sat under the now-opened windows have become the most coveted meeting point of the dormitory's guests. In fact, it is currently occupied by Otabek, Leo and JJ, just enjoying the soft breeze and the warm sunshine filtering through.

But no matter the perfect temperature and the optimal location, Otabek is sulking. He is feeling more tired than he should, his heavy arms crossed over the back of the chair, fighting the desire of sinking his head beneath them as he recalls the morning just passed and the first encounter with the famous choreographer that Cialdini strongly recommended them. 

He has to be honest, Satsuki Muramoto is great. Her directions seem very easy to follow, which is perfect for someone who tends to get confused or even to forget steps like himself - he can still recall his previous coach annoyed and slightly amused voice calling _"Altin, you had one job!"_ \- plus, the woman seems kind and lovely to work with. 

Well, maybe she's a little bit over enthusiastic, but it's not like she's the problem here.

Actually, the problem is his short program. 

_"Flamenco, how exotic! I’m sure we will have a lot of fun with this choreography Otabek!"_

Thinking again about Muramoto's excited reaction upon revealing the music she has chosen for him: [‘Once upon a time in Mexico’](https://youtu.be/fHhAhgD25HY), the tacky loud trumpet that introduces the piece, followed by fast guitar riffs and the dreadful clapping of the castanets starts playing again in his head. Surely it’s a really passionate and groovy song, but…. Does it really suits him?

A deep sigh escapes from his mouth, and it doesn’t fail to catch his friend’s attention. Even JJ, who is trying loudly to open a pack of dried fruits snack, stops his blabbering about how hard the plastic is made and looks at his roommate.

“You've been grumpy since we left the rink, you know that Otabro?" he points out as Leo raises his gaze from his own phone.

Otabek gives up and sinks his head on his crossed arms. He doesn’t want to whine like a baby, not with them. He’s not like Leroy who never miss the chance to loudly complain if he doesn’t like something. Nope, Otabek doesn’t want to grumble about the opportunity to grow that Cialdini and Muramoto are giving him. He knows he can trust their judgments. Yet, he can’t shake the upsetting feeling growing in his guts and he can’t deny to himself that he will need some time to enjoy that song.  
Biting the inside of his cheek, he rises his head, laying his chin on his forearm. Leo and JJ are looking at him expectantly, he has to say something.

“I’m not really fond of cha-cha, rumba, whatever. It’s not really my area, that’s it.” he finally breaths out, composing himself and stretching his arms over his head, grudgingly looking in front of him, considering. 

_That song would have been perfect for Leo, I wonder why Ms Muramoto decided to assign it to me instead. Well, probably because he was skating to a similar piece last season but . . ._

“Actually, your piece is a flamenco" JJ corrects him, as he puts a little portion of dried cherries in his mouth, "And that step sequence Ms Muramoto showed us was sure intense and captivating. How comes that you don’t like it?"

"It's because his body stiffens" Leo explains, stealing a cherry from JJ that could match the color of Otabek’s face right now. It’s just two months that they’re training together and Leo has already found out his weakest spot. "But Ms Muramoto said that yoga will help you keep your joints well lubed, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Becks. You're gonna start with that next week, right?”

Yeah, on top of flamenco, also _that_. Otabek just nods, reassuring his friends that probably they’re right, he's definitely thinking too much about it all. Still he can't help but recall the passed morning, when he was so ready to face any challenge that would have come, and yet...

.  
.  
.

“Okay kiddos! Practice is over!” Cialdini shouts from the sidelines, clapping his hands to get the skaters’ attention. “Altin, De La Iglesia and Leroy, you have to stay a bit longer today, remember?” he adds, pointing his sharp gaze over the three boys, as if they could have forget about it. “Everyone else, OUT!” he demands in a commanding voice.

The big day has finally arrived. Today they will discover what their coach has planned for them, which music they will use for the upcoming season’s programs and of course, they will meet the choreographer that will help them to plan and arrange their step sequences and dancing movements. It’s the calm before the storm, the moment when they officially start preparing for battle. What comes next will be finding the right combination between technique and creativity and learning their programs to perfection.

The Zamboni is just starting to polish the surface of the entire ice rink when Ms Muramoto arrives and Celestino - who was probably craving for a break - happily meets her at the entrance, taking the chance to offer her a coffee from the vending machines and subtly suggesting that - if she ever wants to try a ‘vero espresso’ - he would gladly prepare one for her anytime.

Of course Cialdini’s absence from the rink implies ‘take a rest from your warm-up’ for the boys, so Leo and Otabek put their guards on and move to sit on the bleachers.  
Jean Jacques follows them until the barrier but remains on the ice a bit more, lazily shifting his foots in looping circles while side glancing his friends. Today is one of those days where he's the one who can't stand the guys he declared his friends - especially Otabek, _the traitor_ \- and he rather prefers to stay alone until the end of the day than joining them. Are they calling him out for asking what's wrong? Nope. His roommate doesn’t even seem to care or notice that the King is holding a more than justified grudge.  
Wrinkling his nose, JJ moves his hands to fix the beanie he’s wearing for the uptenth time since this morning, side glancing ‘the traitor’. 

_Tsk. You’re not going to get away with this high treason, Altin._

Unaware of JJ’s piercing gaze, Leo fishes his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket and turns it to landscape mode. As he clicks play, the rumble of a crowded arena reverberates through the rink, followed by the voice of a commentator _‘A genius, no doubt about it...’_

JJ rolls his eyes. He doesn’t need to wait for the notes of [‘The Swan’](https://youtu.be/d3frkW4f7ok) to start playing, he knows they’re watching that video once again. It’s been a week that Leo is obsessing over that program and blabbering about Viktor Nikiforov’s mind blowing interpretation of the music “You see this part, where he’s moving his arms like that? He’s literally one with the sound!” 

_“The amazing Tzar of Russia”: Leo’s biggest inspiration for his own choreography..._

Snorting and noticing that his friends still don’t seem to mind his absence, Jean Jacques skates away and gets off the ice from the farthest exit, relegating himself to the edge of the rink. Putting his earphones on and pumping his best motivational music, he starts some legs-stretching with all the intentions to ignore them for good until the choreographer will show around.

_For my JJ Style, I don’t need any example to follow since I have a pretty good idea of what kind of King I will be…_

When the video ends and Leo is released from the spell that glued him to Victor’s precise and fluid movements, he realises that JJ has not joined them at the seats. From the bleachers he can clearly see his friend’s back rhythmically bending back and forth, a bit further away from their spot, warming up like the good boy that he is. All fine, if he didn’t know him well enough to tell that he’s in the middle of one of his famous mood swings.

"I wonder what triggered Jay this time.." he says in a slightly concerned, slightly amused voice.

"You mean _who_. You know it’s always my fault." Otabek sarcastically replies.

"Oh that’s right, you mentioned something when we were leaving the Nest, but since he was with us in the car... So, what happened this time?" he grins, resting his head on his closed fist, ready for a good story.

Otabek inhales deeply and throws his head over is shoulder, staring at the white ceiling, considering how childish what he’s going to tell will sound to his friend’s ears. 

“This morning we had a fight over his stupid undercut.” he exhales, checking on Leo who fails to keep a poker face, but silently prods him to go on. 

“He wanted me to trim it before coming to practice, when he knew you were already waiting us in the parking lot. So I said ‘No, you could have asked me last night’. And then you know him, he started to pester me, to beg me to do it until I told him to fuck off.” Otabek snorts turning his gaze to the guy in a red and white t-shirt with two big J printed on the back. “So he made his utterly betrayed face, you know which one, like if having the hair on his neck a bit longer than usual was the end of the world, and came to practice with that stupid beanie, managing to look hot even with it - oh sorry, I mean a _touque_ , not a beanie! That’s how we called it” - he says mocking JJ's voice - “ And, have you seen him fixing it every two minutes looking disapprovingly at me?” Otabek concludes releasing a frustrated sigh, expecting a boisterous laugh from Leo. Instead he’s welcomed by a knowing smirk. 

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing really, I'm just surprised? You’re even learning Canadian slang from him!"

Otabek raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Of all he said Leo focused on _that_? 

“Well I can’t help it, since he uses his slang everyday, and we’re basically living together..." he snorts, passing his fingers through his hair. _But I’m not fucking learning it FOR him!_

Seeing that Otabek is switching to his usual ‘leave me alone’ mood, probably already regretting to be so chatty with him, Leo quickly adds "Hey, I’m sorry buddy, okay? I didn’t mean to make fun of you!" grabbing his phone once again, opening Instagram and starting flipping pictures from different accounts "It's just… You seem always so done with him, but let me remind you we’re talking about a dude who happens to be your roommate and he’s objectively good looking, helpless like a cute little boy who constantly begs for your attentions...I mean! You act like it's a curse, but for someone else it could be I don't know, a freaking bless?"

Otabek gives him a quizzical look. "You're kidding me right?" 

_Could it be that Leo is interested in…?_

"Of course I'm kidding!"

Leo’s giggles make Otabek chuckle too. That bastard, he almost fooled him! Even his breath was caught in his throat for the sudden tension. 

_And here I was, hoping that I wasn’t the only one who find him even slightly attractive…Well at least he agrees on the objectively good looking..._

"Ah, sorry. I thought you were-"

"Talking about myself? Naah, I prefer someone that acts cute and looks cute too!" and with that he shoves his phone under Otabek’s nose. He seems hesitant for a moment, but then he blurts out "Otherwise why would I chose to pine over this ridiculously cute guy for almost an year?"

Otabek blinks at the picture on the screen: A young asian boy on a brand-new hiking bike, posing in front of a modern building - ‘Hotel Nikko New Century Beijing’, that's what the caption says, - but Otabek is more focused on the subject of the shot: Medium-short light brown hair, styled in a fashioned and fluffy haircut, bambi chestnut-brown eyes, tiny adorable faint freckles on a tiny button nose and.. A little but pretty round ass, lifted up from the bike seat. "...Wait, I know this guy."

"I bet you do! He's Guang-Hong Ji, he won the Golden Bear of Zagreb last year." Leo explains with a hint of pride in his voice. Yeah, Otabek remembers, he was there as well and placed third at that competition.

“I first met him in Courchevel last season, during the French step of the JGP and you know when you feel an instant empathy with someone? We get along well instantly.” Leo fondly smiles at the memory. “So at the first occasion I searched him online and guess what? I realized he was already following me on all my socials! How could I had miss that is beyond me...” he seems almost embarrassed as he passes one hand over his neck. “So I followed him back and we became friends. After the Golden Bear I made a public post on my IG congratulating for his win.” he fiddles with his phone once more “And he totally surprised me with a private message that made me seriously blush and almost tear up? That Shaguā...” his voice cracks a bit, but he covers it with a genuinely happy laugh. “I mean I’m just an average junior, I couldn't believe that someone more or less my age could write me such an heart-melting message, telling me that he admires my skating and my personality.” his cheeks warms up “So we started to talk even more, sharing photos, Skype calls whenever we could...man, we have reached the point where we can’t get enough of each other, and...well, we both have deeper feelings...” he sighs, biting his lower lip before whispering “I like him, Beks. I really do." 

Otabek was not expecting such an open confession from his friend and he’s caught off guard, not really sure what to reply. 

“Uuh.. So...you’re in a long distance relationship?” he asks, trying his best not to sound like he’s talking about a depressing thing. He has always avoided having one because he knows he would never find the time and the strength to keep it going, but this doesn't mean that other people can't have a very healthy and happy one.

_My figure skating career is top priority right now. Maybe one day I will think about love and all these cheesy stuff more seriously, but now I don’t have time to waste with this bullshit._

"Sort of. It’s not official yet," Leo nods. "But if everything goes as planned..." And his tone, from serious and a little bit emotional becomes playful again as he trail off. “So, did you liked ‘Leobro's Long Distance Romance Story’? Ah, I feel way better now that I said it out loud!” he exclaims, stretching his arms over his head. “It sure makes it feels more real. You know, sometimes I still think this is all just a dream and I will wake up soon,” his hazelnut eyes are sparkling. “You're lucky I spared you the depressing details! Actually, you're the first one I shared this with. I hope you don’t mind. . .” 

Leo blushes a bit, hoping he didn’t make a false move. He has studied Otabek in these months and - even if they hadn't known each other for long - he feels like he can trust him. And well, there are pretty high chances that Otabek might be queer too. Leo can’t be sure, but he’s willing to bet on that, and willing to tease him to find out, in due time. Anyway, even if he’s not, at least he doesn’t seem one to care what others do with their love life. 

Taking a deep breath he adds “It’s just that not everyone here is so open-minded and willing to listen to other people talking about their lives without judging their choices.” 

_And that’s exactly, why I'm a reserved person Leo, I know it all too well._

Otabek turns his gaze to meet Leo's and gets straight to the point. “I hope that you and this guy could make it work. I will keep this for myself, but I guess it goes without saying."

Leo smiles fondly at him in a silent thank you, before his lips curls in a more malicious grin "You're right, we better keep everything we said to ourselves, who knows what JJ would think if he knows that you find him hot!"

Otabek's eyes gets wide."I find him WHAT?" 

"Didn't you realize what you just said about him in a beanie? Your words, not mine!"

"...What's wrong with my touque?"

Jean Jacques, who probably couldn't stand being ignored anymore - that's right, he's not the one who was ignoring them, not at all - is now in front of them. He probably reached the bleachers without being noticed by his rinkmates who were so lost in their conversation. JJ thought they were still discussing choreographies, were they speaking about him instead?

"Nothing at all, Jay! Actually, he said-" 

But before Leo can finish his sentence, Otabek jumps to wrap his shoulders with one arm and covers Leo's mouth with his hand. 

_WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK LEO? DO YOU WANT TO DIE BEFORE GETTING WITH YOUR CHINESE BOYFRIEND???_

JJ squints his eyes as Leo's muffled laugh reverberates in the rink and Otabek’s ears turns red."I like hats, okay?! I said I like hats! Gotta a problem with that??" Otabek frowns and keeps Leo's head firmly, even if he’s trying to hastily shaking it in a no. 

"Sorry you're right, JJ has nothing to do with this." the Canadian snaps in deep irritation, moving away from them "I just forgot how close you guys are now. My bad for trying to get in your way."

Otabek and Leo blink in unison. "Hey!" Leo squirms away from Otabek's now weakened grip and catches Jean Jacques’ arm "Come here right now you!" making him turns around. “We’re not ignoring you on purpose or trying to cut you out. You know that right?” 

Leo's reassuring words have an instant effect on JJ's mood. His cheeks are still puffed in annoyance but his eyes are smiling. “Of course I know. You can’t ignore the King!” he boasts, sitting next to Otabek, looking like he’s expecting some cheerful words from him too.

 _Honestly I am ignoring you on purpose_ ~ Otabek thinks, but decides to keep the thought to himself and supporting Leo’s statement. He wouldn’t want to give him any chance to be a dick again and spill details that are better left unsaid in Leroy's presence. "You're not in the way, you idiot.” 

Of course the ‘idiot’ part doesn’t rub well with JJ. “Oh, now that Leobro is here you say so, but the other night I asked you what you were doing with your laptop and that mixer box and you said ‘nothing’, and then you left the room for going into Leo’s one" he blurts out “so I’m clearly in the way!”

Otabek widen his eyes, remembering which night Leroy is talking about. Then he sighs, spilling the truth. “Well, from your Sunday playlist I got you’re not into heavy stuff,” he starts, scratching his undercut. "I'm working on a mix and I just needed an opinion from someone who actually enjoys the music I’m mixing.” 

“Who said I don’t like heavy music?” Jean Jacques utters, rising his eyebrows “Just because I don’t know as many bands as you guys do, it doesn’t mean I don’t like the genre! I even met a Canadian post hardcore band behind the scenes and after their concert, thanks to my cousin Scott, who works in the music industry. . ."

_..And I had to keep it secret from my parents who said I should have wait to be at least 18 before going to a rock gig. Ridiculous, eh?…_

“Oh, that’s cool! I didn’t thought you could know even the meaning of post hardcore?” smiles Leo, but Otabek snaps “Well, why didn't you say so before?”

“Because you never listen to what I say, neither you want to hear me anyway!” Leroy cries out, folding his arms.

“That’s bullshit and you know it! The problem here is your timing: you want to talk when I’m tired or you want something when we don’t have time to lose, like this morning!” Otabek snorts “I told you already I don’t want to end up on Cialdini’s bad side, and you know he would have skinned us alive for being late!"

"...Or worse, he could have called my mom." JJ shivers at the thought.

"Exactly."

An uncomfortable silence falls around them, broken only by the smooth noise of the Zamboni still polishing the ice. Then Otabek lets out a sigh.

"...When my mix is finished," he says, scratching his undercut again, his eyebrows a bit more knotted than usual. "You can listen to it, if you’d like." 

Before the King can say anything - and JJ is definitely too astonished to reply - the awkward silence is broken by Leo's soft "Awww" as he squeezes Leroy closer to him, like he is some kind of stuffed toy. "Isn't he cutest when he tries to be nice?!"

_The hell is wrong with Leo, and the hell is wrong with Leroy who's freaking blushing? The hell is all this about?!_

 

"The tea and biscuits break ends now, _signorine_!"

Cialdini's scream from the rink's entrance makes the three of them jump. "Miss Muramoto is here! Geez, are you still sit there like it's not your freaking business? They finished AGES ago, so stop slacking off and start some warm-up right now!” 

With a loud “YESSIR!” the boys get on the ice and start to skate around the rink, doing some forward and backward crossovers. Leo is still eyeing Otabek and giving him his best wicked smile while Otabek is trying his best to ignore him. And, even if he can't see him, he can definitely feel JJ's gaze on him. Maybe his stupid cheeks are still all reddened. He better focus on something more important now that Cialdini is finally getting on the ice, inviting the choreographer to join them. She seems quite young and pretty, slender and and harmonious in figure, definitely an exquisite asian beauty, Otabek can’t help but notice that, but a sudden hit on his shoulder pulls him out of his thoughts. 

"What are you staring at, suinello?" Celestino mutters between his teeth.

"...Nothing at all, Sir?" Otabek innocently looks at him, massaging his own shoulder. _...The hell is wrong with you too, dude?_

"Ah! Do you want to know when you realize you're getting old, Celestino?" the woman suddenly says, a soft smile lighting up her face as she skates towards JJ, "When you were backstage at ‘10 Years of Stars on Ice Canada’ and the Leroys introduced their first child to the skate world,” she tilts her head “and now that little baby is an handsome young man and is standing in front of you!"

"Mh. How could I forget?" Celestino replies in a blank tone, twitching his eyebrows as Ms Muramoto laughs, amused. On the other hand, Jean Jacques smiles broadly.

"My parents showed me that video, but I honestly don’t remember much..."

"Oh, It's okay!" she reassures him, "Of course you can’t remember, you were probably three, four years old? Oh well" she shrugs, placing her hands on her hips. "Gentlemen, let me introduce myself. I'm Satsuki Muramoto, 2010 Triglav Trophy champion and 2009 Merano Cup silver medalist. As your coach probably already explained to you, I’m actually working as a coach and choreographer in Thailand, and since one of the Seniors that is here under Celestino’s care is one of my discoveries, I’m here in Detroit for the time being. I heard that some Juniors like you agreed at the suggestion of choosing me as your choreographer, so thank you for this. Since I received your parents’ authorization and of course, the fees, we can start from today! I'm sure it will be a pleasure to work with you all!"

.  
.  
.

“Pleasure my ass" Otabek mutters under his breath, getting up from the benches. The less he thinks about the morning, the better. "Hey. Did you see if there was still some nut mix packs where you picked that pack of dried fruits?"

“Oh they separated dried fruits packs from nuts packs, I’ll show you where..." JJ answers promptly, getting up and pointing at the spot near the canteen’s entrance, when he sees a familiar face. _Wait, isn't that...ghost guy?_ “Hey, Julien! _Quoi de neuf?_ ”

The redhead jumps on hearing his name called out loud. He turns his head towards JJ who’s waving his hand over his head and smiling broadly at him. Blushing he timidly waves his hand back before disappearing out of the cafe at full speed.

_Aww, he’s so shy! Well, next time I will go and speak with him._

.  
.  
.

 

When they come back in their room, Otabek is in desperate need of a hot shower. He needs to wash away the tension and the mixed feelings tangled with bad thoughts that the day brought over him. He collects a pair of clean boxer briefs from his chest of drawers and grabs his speakers from his desk, but of course JJ calls him right when he just stepped a foot inside the bathroom.

“Hey Otabek, check how hot Miss Muramoto was 10 years ago!”. He is sprawled on his bed, laptop on his thighs, wearing a light grey t-shirt of the Montreal Canadiens and just a pair of red boxers. Yeah, because the room is always too hot for JJ and sweatpants are overrated. 

_Point that fucking bulge in your pants away from my sight. Asshole._

Otabek ignores _that_ and the long toned legs attached to _that_ , moving closer. Jean Jacques clicks play and, of course he has retrieved the video the choreographer was talking about this morning. 

“You can see her just for few moments on the side lines, here” he points at the screen “And then… Here I come. Baby King!” he laughs as a little all smiley JJ moves some tiny steps on the ice, Nathalie and Alain on either side of him, taking his hands and skating with him towards the center of the ice. “Super cute, eh?”

Otabek doesn’t reply and keeps his eyes on the video. The likeness between JJ and his father when he was younger is astonishing. Alain lifts his son up and begins to spin as the little potato spread his arms and laughs his heart off. The scene is so sweet that Otabek feels like he can catch diabetes if he stares at it for too long.

“Some things just never change. Actually, they get better and better.” JJ boasts. “You heard the lady, she called me handsome!” 

_You’re so wrong if you think I’m going to stroke your ego Leroy._

Otabek snorts.”Yeah, you’re right. Ms Muramoto was indeed really pretty and she still is.” 

“Oh? ...Yeah, yeah she is still a beauty.” Jean Jacques replies, pouting. 

“I’m taking a shower.” Otabek states, pacing towards the bathroom and stopping in front of the door, his hand gripping the handle. “And after that, do you want me to trim your undercut or not?” 

JJ blinks his bright grey eyes at him, seemingly surprised by the offer, but then he curls his lips into a genuinely pleased smile “Would you really help me?”

_Well, you made such a fuss about it, now don’t pretend to be clueless and that you forget about pestering me for that._

“Yeah.” Otabek shrugs and slips into the washroom. Connecting his phone to the speakers he fiddles a bit until he finds his post-rock/post-metal playlist. He needs something atmospheric and uplifting but still groovy and a bit rough. Just the perfect music to relax and release the tension. 

After pampering himself he feels definitely better and he actually smiles at his reflection on the mirror. Then, he dries the bathtub. Some habits are too well eradicated from years of hearing his mother shouting at him for not doing so, that now he does it almost absentmindedly, before scrambling in the cupboard, looking for the dark green bag where he keeps the electrical razor.

With swift, competent hands Otabek trimms his own undercut, using the mirror for help and moving sideways the longer hair on top, in order not to mess up. Satisfied with the result he cleans up, only to realise he didn’t bring a new t-shirt with him. Huffing, he unlock the door and gets out to quickly collect one. He doesn’t even manage to bring it into the bathroom that JJ is behind him.

“So, how shall we do it?” always too close, always seemingly oblivious of the meaning of personal space boundaries. 

Side glancing him, Otabek moves a step forward. _Dude can you let me finish changing?_

“Just sit in the bathtub so we don’t make a mess of the place.” 

“Right” Jean Jacques turns to the mirror, showing off his sparkling red boxers and the fine ass that they tightly embraced, slowly removing his t-shirt. 

Otabek follows JJ’s every movements as he gracefully crouches down inside the bathtub and turns his clear blue eyes on him.

“You did a great job with yours” he smiles, “so I expect only the best for mine. It’s my first time having it trimmed at home and not at a barber shop! How did you manage so much precision in-”

“Because I practiced a lot, now shut up and look in front of you.” 

If Leroy had a tail, Otabek is sure that now he would be furiously wagging it. The thought manages to enthrall him as he drops the clean t-shirt over the closed toilet and moves to retrieve the hair clipper. 

When he looks back, Jean Jacques’ arms are wrapped around his knees, his broad back bent forward, his face partially covered behind his well defined biceps. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, as if for once he actually listened to Otabek’s orders. 

Nah, probably he’s just enjoying the mellow guitar riffs and the angelic-like vocal sounds of [the song](https://youtu.be/xCwGMLncumM) that’s playing at the moment.

Startled, Otabek realizes that, like this, Leroy seems naked and ready to fill up the tub. It seems a very intimate moment - the music is definitely helping the mood - and he feels torn between running out of the bathroom as fast as he can, or actually join him there and then…. 

_And then what? Get a grip on yourself Beka! You sound like a fucking horny teenage dirtbag, for fucks sake!_

Scratching his temples to get rid of his stupid thoughts, he grabs the razor and sighs - _bad, bad idea_ \- cautiously moving to sit behind his roommate, on the border of the bathtub, trying his best not to hit on the several shampoo and detergents leaning on the tiles, ninety percent of them belonging to the dude in front of him, of course. 

“Please don’t make a mess of the King” JJ blurts out in his usual chanting tone, raising his head without looking back.

Otabek would like to reply that he’s not a professional barber and that he’s not responsible if Leroy doesn’t like the result, but… Let’s say this is not the first thought that crosses his mind at his roommate’s unintentionally teasing words. 

Taking a deep breath he orders “Stay put” moving his left hand to grip on JJ’s long hair, pulling a bit for keeping them over his head as Jean Jacques lets out a noise that sounds a lot like a purr. 

_No, please dude don’t do this._

Otabek feels goosebumps on the back of his neck and closes his eyes. 

_Goddamnit it all, focus. Focus, Beka. The hair._

Switching on the razor, he pushes Leroy’s head down, maybe a bit too harshly.

“Ow.” whines the King as Otabek starts working on the space over his neck, his right hand shaking as the hair clipper vibrates. With well calibrated moves he proceeds to trim the thick black hair, leaving the buzzing noise of the machine to fill the air between them, mixing with the guitar riffs getting faster and the soft voice of the singer whispering calming lyrics in...French.

“Oh, you listen to French bands Otabek? I never heard this one but it’s really nice!”

Of course the asshole doesn’t miss a bit.

“ _It's the hymn of the old trees, sung for you, for those somber forests which are now asleep, so many seasons have passed without waiting for us…_ ” JJ translates for him without getting asked to do so. “Wow, the lyrics are so bitter sweet and melancholic...” 

_Damn. I forgot he speaks French too. Of all the songs, ‘Autre Temps’ had to play right now? Fuck._

Otabek feels his checks warming up. Why is he embarrassed now?

“So you have a gentle heart underneath your stoic and tough attitude, eh?” Jean Jacques chuckles, amused.

Otabek moves away the hair clipper as JJ’s laugh makes his body tremble. “Can you please shut up and stay still?” he harshly replies “Otherwise, I will make a mess.” 

“Oh sorry, sorry. You’re right.” Leroy replies, shifting in the bathtub and passing one hand on his halfway trimmed undercut.

“Don’t touch it yet!” Otabek’s hand moves to grasp JJ’s one and removes it from the neck. He’s willing to get back to work but Leroy is not letting go. 

_Dude, what the fuck?_

Jean Jacques squeezes his hand and turns his head, light grey eyes gazing into hazel ones, a deadly serious expression on his face.

“...Hey. You’re not trying to sabotage my perfect hairstyle, are you?” 

_Шешессс…_ _Leroy!_

“I can do a good job only if you don’t move and don’t speak okay?” 

The truth is, Otabek has never trimmed another’s guy undercut before. It’s not that hard to do, it’s just different than do it to yourself. In fact it’s easier to work on someone else’s than on your own, but only if the person in question stays-fucking-put.

“Yes, yes. Sorry, I’ll shut up and stay quiet now.” a last squeeze to his hand. “I trust you.” he whispers before finally, _finally_ releasing him and getting back to his initial position.

Otabek takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and regain control. At least the song has changed and there are no more French ones in this playlist, thank fuck.

Putting his left hand back on Leroy’s head, he turns it a bit to take care of the hair near his ear, and it seems that the asshole is behaving now, letting him manipulate the upper part of his body as if he was a puppet, without complaining or interrupting.

_‘Helpless like a cute little boy who constantly begs for your attentions’ Leo said.._

Sighing Otabek switches off the razor and moves his hand to slowly dust off the thin hairs on JJ’s shoulders, taking his time to hover over his broad back. It should be ticklish but Leroy just shivers. Without thinking, one of Otabek’s hands moves up to feel his work. It’s not the same as feeling his own undercut, Jean Jacques’ hair are thinner and softer than his own, and even this short they somehow manage to feel softer. JJ lets out another purring sound. 

That’s when Otabek realises what he’s doing so he retrieves his hand blurts out “It’s done. You’re done now.” scrambling to get up and pushing several shampoo and detergents into the bathtub and over JJ who screeches and tries awkwardly to catch the bottles, putting them back in place.

“Let’s see” he jumps out and instantly goes to check himself on the mirror “Sweet! Look at that, perfectly trimmed! Thanks Becks, you did a great job!” he adds, passing one hand over his nape, striking poses. “The King is pleased by your service.”

Otabek rolls his eyes, moving to retrieve the clean t-shirt he abandoned earlier when suddenly an arm drapes over his shoulders, squeezing him tight.

“Both with freshly shaved undercuts!” Leroy grins “ _Laisse-moi toucher!_ ” he adds and starts to move his free hand up and down over Otabek’s short hair, snickering.

Cornered and flustered, Otabek rises his arm as well, grips JJ’s neck and pulls it “You have a death wish Leroy!” he squeals “Let me go, or I’ll pull harder!” 

Jean Jacques whines and laughs louder as Otabek attacks, tickling him on the side until he finally releases his grasp. “Aww don’t be grumpy Otabro, I said thank you didn’t I?” he smiles.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” snorts Otabek, grabbing his t-shirt and getting out of the bathroom. He quickly puts it on and collects the abandoned pair of sweatpants he left on the back of his desk chair. He needs to get out, get some fresh hair. Maybe a snack from the vending machines. 

_Anything. Just, get the fuck out of this room now._

.  
.  
.

It’s been a week already since they met Ms Muramoto and started working on the choreography of their programs. It’s Friday already and they’re just in front of the Nest’s main entrance when JJ’s phone chirps in his pocket. Cialdini’s choreography training had them cursing under their breaths in anguish even more than the usual technical training, but the dramatically loud groan that escapes from Jean Jacques’ mouth is on a whole different level.

“ _Ce n'est pas possible!_ ” he cries, stopping in the middle of the corridor, eyes transfixed on the screen. Otabek and Leo try to pass him by without engaging as he adds some unintelligible niggle in French, but JJ grabs the latter by the back of his jacket. “Guys, you have to see this!” 

JJ eagerly shoves his phone under his friend’s nose who smiles, grabbing one side of it to better check the screen. “Wow!" he exclaims suddenly very interested. "Dunno what's this, probably just what I need after all the blood I spilled on the ice?"

“Luchador poutine! Can you believe it?” Jean Jacques whines. “Mexican inspired recipe...sour cream, guacamole, jalapenos, cheese, ground beef and french fries of course!”

“Ayyy" Leo feels his mouth watering at the thought.

“I know right? I knew you would have like it!” JJ smiles and his eyes sparkle. Catching Otabek looking at the fries firmly dipped into the guacamole sauce and covered with shredded melted cheese he adds "Looks good, eh?" with a certain tone suggesting ‘this is food porn’ that makes Otabek slightly flinch. 

"Honestly? It looks like that fries are soggy, drowning into a pool of guacamole. It doesn’t look so inviting to me."

At those words, Leroy releases an indignant sound. “You heard him?" he babbles to Leo, pointing hastily at Otabek who's giving him one of his best resting bitch faces. "This guy here clearly never ate a poutine in his entire life.”

"Aha, play nice guys!" Leo smiles, trying cool off the air, "Well, I’m sure the ones I ate here in Detroit will never gonna be tasty as this one. But I didn’t even know they made it like this in Canada? You guys surely can go wild when it comes to poutine, no shit!”

“Oh, you bet!" JJ beams, instantly forgetting about the argument, wrapping Otabek's shoulders with one arm. “Especially during poutine festivals, and guess what? One just started in Montreal! They’re making up all kinds of special flavours and of course, my little brother Alex, who know exactly that this dish is my weak spot, has only one mission now: torture his elder brother with pictures of delicious food stuff… _C'est pas juste!_ ”

"Whatever" Otabek shakes Leroy's arm away. "I'm going upstairs."

"You're not gonna wait with us in the cafeteria? It's almost dinner time." Leo asks, looking at his friend, who’s already moving towards the stairs.

“No, I'll come down when the food is ready. See you later."

Leo simply shrugs. He knows him well enough to tell when it's better not to insist. "How about you, JJ?"

"Alexandre is pure evil!” 

Jean Jacques is still into the whine-zone, glued to his phone screen who keeps on chirping, so Leo immediately gets the hint. Oh well, he's sure that at least Eric is at the benches, so he pats JJ gently on the back and moves towards the cafeteria.

The screen is flooded with pictures. “ _Sacrament! C'est bon, arrête!_ ” he swears under his breath and paces along the corridor to the opposite direction: Curry Caramel Poutine with steaming hot dripping salted caramel. Maple Bacon Poutine - last time he had some Maple Bacon for breakfast feels like ages ago - and then the little rascal strikes an harder blow, sending pics of the family time JJ is missing: His parents all smiling, both popping a french fry into each other mouth like a freshly wed couple, Alex in the foreground sticking his tongue out disgusted and his little sister Amandine laughing her heart out next to him. JJ doesn’t recognise the poutine place where they’re eating, not even in the following pictures where a plump middle aged man, probably the owner, is posing with Nathalie and Alain in a commemorative picture.

“They will all become fatties like that guy if they keep up like this” JJ bitterly murmurs, but he knows it’s just jealousy talking. He knows they will try all the poutine they can for a good cause, since all the profits of the festival will get donated to a meal share for youth in need. Anyway it seems Alex is reading his mind because now he’s texting the name of the place and even sharing the location. Yeah, thanks a bunch _mon frère_ , like if JJ could join them anytime soon. He checks the geotag anyway, out of curiosity and yep, of course it’s in the Mile End district. No wonders the place looked so hipsterish. 

Now he knows exactly which pic he will inevitably receive after the poutines and, as on cue here it is: them having bagels. “ _Je le savais!_ ” he cries “So predictable!”. He hastily texts back and forth with his little brother, his heart longing to be there with them.

>   
>  **Alex** \- “We’re missing you JJ! Keep up with your training! Mama says hi to Cialdini, papa is making a grumpy face LOL”  
> 

Biting his lower lip and taking a deep breath, Jean Jacques types a final sappy reply as homesickness overwhelms him. He then put the phone on silent and slips it into his pocket.

JJ is not a baby, he's strong. He can cope with this, no problem. But a little help to overcome this blues would be highly appreciated at the moment. 

Passing in front of the reception he remembers Julien. He haven’t got the chance to speak with him after ‘the ghost incident’. There has never been the chance and he forgot to ask the guy his phone number that day. Well, he could try with Ms Ortiz, she’s always happy to help and JJ could really use a lovely chat in French right now. Maybe Julien is feeling homesick too in this moment.

“Sorry ma’am. Can I ask you a favour?” Jean Jacques flashes her his biggest smile and lean on the counter.

“Sure, JJ darling!" she beams, laying down the paperworks she was rearranging. "What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could help me with something" he asks, sitting in one the chairs placed in front of the woman's desk. "Well, I made a friend some weeks ago you know, we got along very very well and he was super kind, but then we have been both extremely busy with training and everything, you know how these things go” JJ waves his hand dismissively “so I haven’t got the chance to properly meet him again, and I realised I don’t have his phone number. His name is Julien. . .” JJ feels his cheeks warming up as he realises he doesn’t know his friend’ surname. “Uhm, yeah. Julien. He’s doing pairs and he’s French. Surely you remember him, eh?” 

“Oh, you mean Julien Le Blanche? Redhead, curly hair...”

JJ eagerly nods. _Thank God she remembers everyone!_ “Yes, yes that’s him!”

Miss Ortiz eyes becomes sad all of sudden. “I'm sorry to tell you this sweetheart, but he just left the Nest two days ago.” 

“What?" Jean Jacques blinks in disbelief. "W-what do you mean he left? Like, something happened? A family issue?” He’s sure he has seen Julien at the cafeteria. When was it? It can’t be more than two days ago right? There has to be a mistake. But unfortunately, Miss Ortiz slowly shakes her head.

“He went back to France all of sudden without giving us a proper reason" she explains "And the day after he left, we received a statement from his coach that their collaboration is now ended because Julien decided to retire from Figure Skating... Oh darling, didn’t he told you?” she asks, looking concerned.

JJ smiles awkwardly, caught off guard. 

_Ah. Keep making the same mistakes, aren’t you JJ? Always believing people care about you as much as you care about them. Thinking everyone is your friend. Tch. Always the Same. Stupid. Mistakes._

“Actually... Yeah, he did say he missed home. . .” scratching his neck absentmindedly, Jean Jacques tries his best to dismiss his bad thoughts. 

“You know JJ, these are crucial months for so many Juniors like you. Sometimes the pressure for the upcoming season becomes unbearable, sometimes you don’t feel talented enough and you miss home, miss the normal life of a teen… there are many reasons.” she sighs. “I'm sorry that you didn't get the chance to say him goodbye, it must be hard for you processing this news! But even so, you understand that without his consent I can't give you his personal information, right?" 

_Stop it ma’am, JJ doesn’t need your pity now...!_

“Oh it’s not a big deal, really… I don’t mind, I don’t mind it at all!!” Jean Jacques laughs loudly, putting up his best facade as his inner demons poke his heart. He just needs to leave quickly. “Well...”

“I’m glad you’re not mourning him!” sighs Mz Ortiz, visibly relieved. “Don’t worry, you will surely make more friends. It's a period of choices, so someone leaves, but someone also comes for stages and choreographies consultations...in fact more guests are coming soon!” she beams at him, unable to contain her excitement. “We're gonna have some exchange athletes who comes all the way from the Chinese Skating Association. According to their student visas, they will stay only for three months, but the good news is that they will train with our dear Celestino, so you will have three new rinkmates! Isn’t it amazing?”

“Oh..” it’s all Jean Jacques can reply. He surely was not expecting new skaters. Yet, it’s still off season so as the lady said, it’s not so uncommon to have people coming and going, he shouldn’t be so surprised. But, even if JJ would be able to befriend them, surely they would not be able to speak French.

For a moment his mind wanders back to the time he was staying in Colorado Springs. The old woman who hosted him was a fellow Canadién and JJ could speak French with her whenever he was feeling homesick. Now, he is the only Maple Leaf around and sometimes, like right now, it’s really hard to cope. 

“Therefore” Ms Ortiz reprises, saving him from his thoughts. “We’re doing a bit of rearrangement of the rooms in order to accommodate them. I sent an email to all of you yesterday, to know your availability." 

“...Rearrangement?” JJ suddenly feels an alarm bell ringing in his head. 

_What are you talking about ma’am?_

“Well, we’d like to know everyone’s availability to change roommates because we don’t want the new arrivals to isolate themselves, we want them to make friends and create unforgettable memories!” Proclaims the receptionist, visibly pleased with herself. She doesn’t seem to notice that Jean Jacques is getting more and more pale, the words after “changing roommates” a white noise to his ears.

"...Is that so..?" JJ swallows. "Is there already any applications..?" anxiety building up in his guts.

“Sure, your friend Leo’s volunteered already! He’s such a nice guy. Always so caring!” She praises him with a motherly fondness in her voice. 

“No way! I’m sure his roommate Eric doesn’t want to change!!”

_Why is Leobro doing this?! He didn’t told me anything! And what’s with all the ‘Sharing is Caring’ policy? Where is the ‘caring about your current roommate’ part in all of this??_

The smug smile on Ms Ortiz is almost frightening. “Every cloud has a silver lining, my dear! I know Julien’s departure is bad news for you, but his timing couldn't be more perfect!” She clasps her hands together. “Because Eric wanted to share with Julien’s roommate as they're good friends since last year! This seems almost planned! Leo told me that he knows basic Chinese because he’s studying it in his free time, so he’s really looking forward this exchange!” A boisterous laugh escapes from the receptionist’s mouth.

Jean Jacques is completely baffled, his brain unwilling to process what he’s hearing. All he knows is that he needs to get the fuck out of this office right now. He quickly says goodbye to Mrs Ortiz goodbye and literally jumps out of the door, running out of the reception and up the stairs to his room, his heart racing fast, his mind a whirlwind of bad thoughts, bitterness and anxiety.

_Julien’s gone. I can't believe he just gave up without following my advice.. Didn't I tell him to come and find me whenever he felt lonely? ...No, what am I saying. He didn’t care about me and my advice at all, this is clear._

_No... I'm having a hard time because I have no one but my family to speak French with now, but I can’t call them all the time. I can’t! They already sense my misery as if they have a radar for it, I don’t want them to worry for me more than they already are..._

_And how about my so-called friends? Like Leo, who's learning Chinese and didn’t know any fucking thing about it! Not a single word about it from him! And how about the fact that he's super eager to change his roommate? What’s wrong with Eric, eh?_

_And what if Leo has already shared all this with Otabek? What if he did? Oh, surely he did. And even if he didn’t, what if Otabek has already checked the email and... And he's... Also considering volunteering to change roommate?_

_No, no. No! He cannot! I don’t want to!!!_

Jean Jacques abruptly stops in front of room 27. He needs a moment to collect himself, he can’t look on the verge of a breakdown, not at all. JJ has to act casual, like nothing happened. 

Taking few deep breaths, he slowly opens the door, careful not to make any noise.

Otabek is there. All his things are still in the room and he’s not packing. He’s just sit on his bed, back to the door. Probably fiddling with something, not bothering to check who's entering, since he know who is. 

JJ lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

It took a long time to find a kind of balance, a truce between him and his "odd" roommate. They're still learning how to deal with each other, but he thinks they’re getting along kinda well now. Their coexistence has improved a bit after their last meaningful chat, when he helped Otabek with his flag, talked about his family's job...he even offered him a cake that they ate while talking like two good friends. Yes, Otabek seems to tolerate him better now. Sure, there's still ups and downs, but they're making it work.

Perhaps, JJ is panicking for nothing. That's right, changing room is a hassle, and his roommate said he loved this one even before he arrived, so surely he doesn’t want to leave it for what? Someone with scarce self hygiene? Someone who will forget to wear slippers and enter with his dirty shoes in the room?

Let’s be honest, JJ is the best roommate Otabek can asks for. It’s true that he still doesn’t get why Otabek gives him the eye sometimes, or get upset with him, but he's sure trying to be the best in everything, and if there is some issue, JJ will work on them. No matter how many times Otabek will try to burn him with his sharp piercing eyes, JJ will not give up on him. Not when he secretly knows that his ‘leave me alone and don’t touch me’ attitude dissolves completely when he speaks with his own family. Not when he knows that behind his all black metal bands t-shirts there's also a boy who's capable of singing softly to his sister. JJ has seen something in him and he will not give up on his quest so easily. JJ wants to conquer him. He will conquer his respect. Then, his friendship. And then...

Then what? That’s all, right?

Clearing his voice, JJ paces towards his bed, whistling casually, leaving his training bag on the floor with a loud plof.

_There’s nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine. Otabek is not going anywhere._

He’s in the middle of taking off his jacket when Otabek gets up and moves to the door. 

_OH MERDE_ “Wait, where are you going?” he asks in an alarmed voice.

“To the reception.” Otabek replies and exits from the room while JJ is struggling to take off one of the sleeves and misses the chance to block him.

_He’s is surely going to ask Mrs. Ortiz to change roommate! Osti de tabarnak what shall I do? I can’t go after him. No, no. That would be childish and I’m not so desperate. Am I? Merde, I am. But I can't lose my pride like this! Think JJ, THINK! There must be something you can do!_

But what can he do to change Otabek’s mind? 

Scanning the room as his heart pumps in his ears, all he can see is his stuff, covering all the available space. Seriously, how much stuff he brought with him? It’s too late to rearrange it, it would take too much time, leaving then half of the place empty, looking ugly and dull...It would make Otabek wanting to leave even more.

Then he sees his dirty workout clothes from yesterday’s practice still on the floor near his desk. _Merde_ , he should have put them in the laundry bag. Quickly, he collects them, zipping the bag and putting it in the right place. 

_Wait...didn't he scolded me once for leaving my clothes on the floor? So he will be impressed if he doesn't find any dirty stuff around when he comes back!_

Grabbing a bandana from one of his drawers, JJ put it on his head in a resolute move and, without thinking twice, he collects a rag and some dust removal spray from the washroom, starting to polish the furnitures. 

_HA! When you will see how the room will sparkle you will change your mind. 'Moving to another room is such a drag, I better stay here' I will hear you say! That’s right because you can’t find someone better than JJ! Try to get rid of me all the times you want Altin, but you will need my okay for doing the swap right, RIGHT?!_

Catching his reflection on the window, Jean Jacques stares at himself, bandana, rag and all, feeling miserable. 

_...Why does it always have to end like this?_

He's capable of doing his best in sport and school but, when it comes to make friends, no matter how hard he tries, it seems he always fails and he doesn't know why. How can people like Leo makes it seem so easy or people like Otabek seems to live even better without them? 

All the ones he called a friend in the past had run away from him at a certain point, complaining in one way or another that JJ’s grasps on them was too tight. 

‘JJ, I can’t be your friend only. You can’t expect me to talk only to you and not to anybody else’. Yeah, he understand that it's definitely too much to ask, that he came out too possessive, too needy. But he was only seven years old at the time and it had seemed a fair request coming from a King to the one he considered his best friend. 

The honest truth is that it has never been easy for him, making friends. When he was a kid, every child wanted to be close to him at the rink, girls especially. And it was crazy, but he soon came to realise that it was not because they liked him better than the others, it was because they wanted his name, his parent’s name and their coaching. 

He doesn’t remember how many times his heart got shattered to pieces when some little girl had tried to convince him to do ice dance after declaring herself his friend. He never had wanted to follow his parent’ steps. Ever. JJ had always wanted to find his way on the ice alone, to prove himself on the same ground his parents danced on, but on a different path.

That’s exactly why achieving his JJ Style has always been so vital for him. How people can’t understand that it is the only way he literally has to make his parents proud and to carry on the Leroy’s legacy on his own terms? 

The honest truth is that JJ is not able to make people stay. Because when he finds someone to call friend he’s ready to give them all his heart, expecting the same in return. He came to realise soon enough that friendship doesn’t work like this. Maybe in some vanilla sprinkled child movie where "friendship is magic", surely not in the real world. 

But Otabek. Otabek is different. Or at least JJ thinks and hopes he is. Otabek had met his parents, and even if he knows about their Olympic achievements, he didn't take advantage of the situation like many others before him did, asking for a "special treatment". 

Otabek already saw the worst of JJ, he even get scolded pretty hard from Cialdini because of JJ, but he never left, at least not until now.

That's why JJ will try harder this time, he will do everything to keep him. To make him stay. 

Knitting his eyebrows together JJ nods at his reflection and carries on with the room dusting. He is still lost in his thoughts and bitter memories when the doors opens again, just when he is polishing one of Otabek’s shelves.

“...Heeey.” Jean Jacques flashes him his best smile, meeting Otabek’s puzzled and pissed trademark gaze that says ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ without the owner of said gaze needing to voice his thoughts. “The rooms looks much better now, eh?" JJ toys with the rag in his hands to disguise his nervousness.

“Well, the cleaners came just yesterday.” Otabek states matter of factly. 

“Oh..” _Merde_ he’s right. "Sorry... I thought, well, I realized that I left some dirty laundry on the floor and-"

"Ah, you picked that up." Otabek looks at the empty spot on the floor. "Good."

"Yeah." JJ replies, taking that stupid red bandana off his head. 

He follows Otabek with his gaze until he sits on his own bed with a sigh. He doesn't look mad, but nor even pleased with himself. What's wrong? Why he always makes himself so damn difficult to read? Maybe...maybe he doesn’t know how to tell JJ the bad news? 

"So... What did Mrs. Ortiz wanted?" he asks, trying to sound casual, failing miserably at it.

"I just went to get this." Otabek says, pointing what seemed to be a shipment package. 

Oh… JJ hadn't even seen what was in his hands when Otabek entered the door, too focused on his anxiety to notice. 

"Can you bring me scissors? There's a pair on my desk."

"Oh, sure" JJ picks them up and offers them to him. 

_So he just went downstairs for getting a package and that’s it?_

He looks at Otabek cutting the tape with a fluid movement, unsure of what to do. Shall he ask if he talked to the receptionist, or shall he just feign ignorance, sit on the bed next to him and check what he got? 

He opt to sit on the floor, embracing his knees and pointing his eyes on the package.

An elegant wooden box in a size around twenty for twenty centimeters, finely decorated in minute arabesques emerges from it. "It looks like expensive stuff." JJ says, looking curiously at it.

"It is. Geez..." Otabek mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why they have to be always like this..."

"What's wrong?"

"That's from my parents" Otabek explains. "They sent this hella expensive shit all the way from our chocolate confectionery as a gift for Cialdini but...There's no way I will give him this. I'm sure he'll take it the wrong way, like he always does with everything I say or do."

"Wait, you mean this is a chocolate box? No way!!" JJ beams. "It looks like one of that expensive boxes of cigars that sometimes my father gets from his friend that lives in Cuba..."

"I know" Otabek sighs. "They also sent a bigger box to the Ortiz. They're like ‘go big or go home’ in everything they do. " 

"So you took after them!"

Otabek just disapprovingly side eye him, but JJ feels definitely more relaxed right now. Well, it seems that he panicked for nothing, or at least he hope so. "Which flavor is it?"

"They're semi-spheres filled with different real vintage liqueur, bigger than a shot. They're really strong. So I will get scolded if we consume them."

JJ's eyes twinkles at his words: WE. So Otabek was saying the truth when he told him he would have make him taste the Altin's fine chocolate! "Nah, you should give it to him, I'm sure Cialdini will be happy!" JJ tries to reassure him. "We can always eat the chocolate bars!"

"Uh..they didn't send me that this time." Otabek says as JJ pouts. "Since I started doing yoga, I should cut up with sweets. Don't tell me that it's not fair. Muramoto's directions."

"That's not fair" JJ mutters, embracing his own knees again. "For how long?"

"Who knows" Otabek says while yawning. Then, he places the chocolate box back inside the package and gets up from the bed to put it into his closet. 

_Better take the temptation away from the sinners._

JJ follows Otabek with his gaze, hiding his smiling mouth behind his knees, considering.

_It's okay, it's not like I need anything more than this. Forgive me if sometimes I'm just too childish, or moody, or anxious ... It's just, I don’t know what to do or what to say to be a good friend. What to say to make you happy to share this with me. Is it okay If I don’t say anything at all? I always say too much. You know how I feel anyway, right? That's what friends does, right?_

Suddenly, Otabek releases a soft hiss and passes an hand over his left shoulder. 

"Are you okay?" JJ blinks, rising up and getting closer.

"Yeah. This shoulder is just killing me everytime I rise it up too high. I guess I just did a bad movement during the fucking praising the sun thing this morning, or whatever is called..."

"Maybe is just some stiffness of the muscle... Sometimes it happens when you do that kind of movements with your shoulders and neck. Lemme check!" 

Otabek gives him a suspicious glare. "Don't touch anything. I will let the therapist check tomorrow. Maybe is a pulled muscle."

"If it’s a pulled muscle believe me, you would definitely feel it" JJ chuckles, cautiously placing his hand over Otabek's shoulder, giving them a soft squeeze. "See? No screams from pain, nor any sharp feelings. So, no pulled muscle."

"Thanks, Doc Leroy. Now, could you please let go of me?" he sarcastically replies.

"I think what you need now" JJ grins, not releasing his grasp, "is some well done hand movements to warm and relax your tensed muscles."

"A massage?" Otabek blinks at JJ, who nods. "From who?"

"From Doc Leroy, of course! I can guarantee that after tasting my great skills, you will make me your personal massage therapist!"

 _That’s it. This is the best idea ever! If I show you how good I am at this, there’s no way you would want another roommate!_

Otabek narrows his sharp eyes on him. "And let your clumsy hands mess with my body? No way." With a shrug, he shakes off JJ's hands. 

As Otabek expects, Leroy's jaw clenches in annoyance. "My hands are not clumsy!" he complains. "You can't say that unless you tried my skills! My parents passed me their experience and their techniques after decades of self-treatment!"

"Okay." Otabek sighs. "But, you know-"

"Not to mention that I also diagnosed that the pain that my previous choreographer always had in her neck was a cervical dysfunction, and my massages gave her plenty of relief! Or when-"

"I got it, just chill dude!" Otabek blurts out, raising both his hands in front of him. "I believe you, okay? Now stop!"

"So will you let me do it?" JJ asks, his tone full of hope and trepidation. How he can change his mood in a snap of a finger is still a mystery to Otabek, but he's sure that he refuses, Leroy will starts to complain again. So, before this will end in tragedy - and with tragedy, he means a Leroycide - he considers the offer for a moment. If it’s just a superficial massage, there's no risks that he could do any damage, right? Maybe a bit of squeezing on his muscles is all he needs. Plus, it will make Leroy shut up for a while so, why not?

_It's fine, let's make him play the therapist roleplay so we will avoid any other sour discussion... For now._

"Well, let's see this finest technique of yours" Otabek sighs, moving closer to his desk to sit on his chair. If it’s just for the shoulders…

"You really don't want to give some trust to JJ, eh? Oh come on, Otabro! There's no way that a good massage can be done on a chair!" and with that, JJ plops on his own bed, patting it with one hand. "Come here and remove your t-shirt and sweatpants, Doctor’s orders."

_...Should I tease him that a real therapist would make me lay on the bed with just a towel to cover my butt?_

He decides not to. Insead he just give him a nod and tries his best to stop his mind, already running towards malicious thoughts. They’ve seen each other in various states of nakedness since they began training together, this is not any different. 

He swiftly removes his sweatpants and t-shirt, feeling Leroy’s gaze on him. "You better not lying about having skills" Otabek says, knotting his eyebrows and throwing is most threatening gaze at JJ. "If I get sore, you're the one I'm going to blame." 

The threat doesn’t seem to bother JJ at all, as he flashes him his best grin. "Have no fear, you're in the hands of the King!" and with that he rises from the bed, giving Otabek space for sprawling on his bed, face down.

Maybe it's just Otabek's imagination, but the mattress feels a little bit more firm than his own. Not uncomfortable, just different...or maybe not? Who knows, probably he's projecting things just to avoid thinking he's actually lying in JJ's bed. Well, at least this pillow feels nice, except for the overly-sweet smell that comes from the pillowcase. 

_Isn't this it his cologne? How much of this patchouli shit he puts on daily?_

"Sweet, lemme just pick a thing from my nightstand and we can start." smiles JJ, opening the drawer and getting out a small jar. He takes some product with his fingers and rubs it between his hands for warming it while a strong camphorous peppermint scent permeates the air.

"I'm using tiger balm, have you ever tried it?"

"I don’t think so" Otabek states, adjusting his cheek pressed on the pillow.

"For real?..well it will help your muscles to relax." he explains, placing one knee between his roommate's legs as he start spreading the balm from Otabek's shoulders, to his neck, and across his entire spine, slowly and carefully coating every inch of his skin with the oily mixture. "So you never experience a massage made with this... Heh, very interesting."

The leisurely strokes of Jean Jacques's hands start to become soothing and something else - Otabek tries to not think that they’re almost sensual - as he alternates between using the flat of his palms and soft caresses with his fingertips. His hands move down and when they reach the small of his back, JJ goes few inches lower, pushing back the elastic of Otabek's boxers a bit in order to reach a sensitive point at the end of his spine. He can feel Otabek tensing at the partial uncovering and then relaxing as his fingers knead the soft flesh there, letting out a soft humm.

Jean Jacques suddenly feels proud of himself: if he's relaxing, this means that he's doing a great job, right? So everything is going as planned. But, as he spread his hands out, running his fingers slowly up his roommate's flanks and back down to his hip bones, he can clearly hear Otabek's muffled breath increase. Maybe now he's pressing too hard?

"How does that feel, Beks?" he stops his movements, uncertain. He can't see his face, firmly pressed on the pillow, so he can't tell. Maybe he's in pain? "If you want to stop, I-"

"...So that's it?" Otabek finally gives a sign of life, turning his head just a little bit in his direction. "Is that all you’ve got?"

"Not at all!" Leroy replies, rising one single eyebrow. "This was just a taste, mere warm up. Actually, the real massage starts now."

Otabek can't help but smirk, his face hidden in the crook of his bended arms, his heart racing as Jean Jacques's fingers get back on his slippery skin, gliding down his back eventually teasingly and slowly getting closer to the end of his spine, brushing the elastic of his boxers once again. A flutter of butterflies starts to coil in his stomach, he closes his eyes and breath deep, drawing the scent of the balm into his lungs mixed with JJ’s perfume on the pillow, as he tries his best to ignore his instincts. As an athlete, he's used to receive professional massages and they even involve uncomfortable pressure in order to be therapeutic... But this entire thing over here feels just amazing. What in the bloody hell is his roommate doing to his body?

“Fuck,” Otabek whispers, and that gives Leroy a high boost of pride. Now we’re talking, as expected his massage is taking effect!

"Mmm, you like that?" Without any notice, a soft whispers warms Otabek's ear, making his back suddenly jolt under Jean Jacques hands, who rest in place. 

"Don't stop," Otabek almost moans with a slight plea in his voice. "Go down. More lower."

"Lower you say?" Leroy looks at the place where his hands are now, puzzled. He already reached the sacrum, there's no place to go lower than this. "Aah you mean your legs, got it." he smirks. "So, you also have tension in your legs, but first you wanted to taste my skills before leaving me touch there, eh? You man with little faith! Now I get it..."

Otabek doesn’t reply, just push his head on the pillow harder, while Leroy picks more balm with two fingers. His strong hands move up and down his legs, kneading the knots from his overworked muscles. Hearing him sighs deep and low is strangely satisfying, considering how much he was doubting his skills just earlier. He now understands what Muramoto was meaning when she defined Otabek's stiffness a "defense posture". And it’s true, he can't help but stay rigid even when he's relaxed, like in this moment. Jean Jacques wonders why, maybe is body insecurity? But that's ridiculous! 

Even if Otabek isn't that tall or buff, he sure got a nice body. He felt under his hands how broad his shoulders are, his legs well toned and packed with defined muscles...it’s a pleasure to feel every little inch of his skin under his hands. Yes, he’s got a very nice body.

JJ suddenly remember that girl from the American division peering at his roommate's ass once. Otabek was bent forward to remove some ice crystals from his blades and she was clearly looking at those firm, round shaped buttocks... Oh, he didn't ask him if he wants to get them massaged as well... 

JJ considers the thought for a moment, then he cups the little crease underneath Otabek's plump cheeks, who tenses immediately at the touch. Blushing and shaking his head, he rushes his hands down again reaching the ankles. What on earth... Made him think such weird thoughts?

"Um, now" Jean Jacques's voice feel uncertain "I will rub your feet a lil bit and after that we're done, okay?"

Otabek just lets out a muffled "Okay." 

His body is reacting way too easily to JJ’s ministration and the slick sensation of the peppermint balm around his toes when Leroy starts to massage them with his slender fingers it’s just the last drop that makes Otabek's lower abdomen melt as waves of heat rushes up to his face and deep down his hopeless sprawled limbs.

 _No no no, please don't. Don’t- OH SHIT_

"T-That's enough," Otabek manages to say in a shaky breath. "That's definitely enough."

"Alright, alright" Leroy nods, giving one last rub to the ball of Otabek's feet. Shutting the tiger balm’s jar he gets up from the bed and moves to the bathroom to wash his hands. When he checks himself in the mirror he can see his face is flustered. He sprays some cold water on his cheeks, purposefully ignoring the sensation he got when he almost squeezed Otabek’s ass that still lingers in his mind.

Taking a deep breath he gets out, smirking at his roommate still limp in his bed.

"So! How you feel?" he asks "Do you still think my hands are clumsy or are you finally ready to call me King of Massages?"

"Yeah, you're good, you’re good." Otabek replies, avoiding his gaze "Happy now?"

"Only good?! Argh, maybe I lost my touch a bit, eh? Who knows...maybe you need another go before you can call me King..." Leroy sighs, looking down at Otabek who’s still not moving from his bed. "Well, you can get up now! Let's see if the food is ready in the cafeteria, I'm starving!"

 _Oh no._ "Uh, you can go by yourself" Otabek blurts. "I'd like to stay here a bit more...To...Um, relax."

"But that's my bed... Oh, but it's fine! You can stay longer if you want" Leroy reassures him, his gaze eyeing his roommate’s ass, blushing again. "Well, I guess I'm going to join Leo at benches now. See you later! Don't get down late, or else you not gonna find any fruit salad!"

"Yeah ok, bye" Otabek even waves one hand over his head as Leroy quietly closes the door behind himself. When his roommate's steps fade, he flips from the bed with a sigh. The familiar tingling between his legs is still making itself felt. 

He tried desperately to fight his instinct with good reason, but the victory of the former has been overwhelming, He groans in deep frustration, eyes rolling back in his head as he feel his hard-on ranging in his pants. 

_...So, fucking Otabro has finally hit rock bottom, eh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS
> 
> 傻瓜 shaguā (Chinese) = dummy, fool
> 
> signorine (Italian) = young ladies
> 
> suinello (Italian) = piglet
> 
> Quoi de neuf? (French) = what's new?
> 
> Шешессс (Kazakh) = literally means "your mama's ...." and the rest is implied. It's along the lines of "oh my fucking god" like if you're annoyed and exhausted. (sounds like "sheshesss") 
> 
> Laisse-moi toucher! (French) = let me touch!
> 
> Ce n'est pas possible! (French) = It’s not possible!
> 
> Ce n'est pas juste! (French) = It’s not fair!
> 
> Sacrament! C'est bon, arrête! (French) = Holy shit, it's enough, stop it!
> 
> mon frère (French) = brother mine
> 
> Je le savais! (French) = I knew it!
> 
> Osti de tabarnak (French Canadian) = It's a very strong swear word -- old ladies would probably gasp and hit you with their purses. But all of the words are religious, so they kind of lose their meaning in English. Maybe something along the lines of 'Oh my fucking God' can give you the flavour.
> 
> CHAPTER ART
> 
> [the undercut scene](https://ainitsuite-agape.tumblr.com/post/173266385629/because-youre-lying-to-yourself-if-you-dont)
> 
> [you have a death wish Leroy!](https://ainitsuite-agape.tumblr.com/post/175047485449/just-a-little-teasing-drawing-anticipating-whats)


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